Fractured Fairytales: Beastly
by whitedove4
Summary: She would stop at nothing to free her father. She would not see him enslaved to the hideous beast who would see them all dead, or as playthings to his subjects. She would venture to the icy lands of his kingdom; and she would see the beast's blood run down he edge of her blade...A beast...a merchant...his daughter and a rose...Nothing is what it seems...
1. Chapter 1

*****I do not own beauty and the beast…however, I do own this take on the tale ;)**

**So I've played a bit with the names in this, however I hope it's clear who's who. So I've gone for the more traditional version rather than the Disney version (though, to be honest it's kind of completely different, a lot darker)…anyways I hope you enjoy this…I've got the whole story planned out and shall be updating regularly…ENJOY MY DEARESTS! And don't forget to review :D xx**

**Chapter 1 (Prologue)**

Scrape. Scraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaape.

Sirisha, known as Siri by most of the male population of their village, glared at her youngest sister from where she sat on her bed, pulling the woollen shawl closer about her slender shoulders. Nalini, lovely, beautiful Lina, was shivering at her side despite her cloak and woollen stockings.

The three of them spoke no words as the moon shone through their window, sitting on the mattresses covered by blankets that had once been good.

Scrape.

Siri would have yelled at Lavanya, defiant little Anya, who was sharpening her knife with a whetstone. Her precious knife, with the intricate little scribbles across the silver-tipped blade that would not dull with time. Runes to hurt the fae. Runes to kill; for no simple blade could ever hope to pierce their beautiful marble skin, no matter how skilled the wielder.

But as she put an arm around Lina she couldn't find it within herself to care about the soft sliding sound. It wasn't because she would begrudge Anya something that comforted her; no, she was not that good-hearted and she didn't try to deny it. It was because it meant she could direct her emotions at the little fool who sharpened her weapons.

_Scrape._

Anything was a welcome distraction to the fae-cursed scraping. The click, click, click of claws across the flimsy window pain. Anything to ignore the weak whimpering sounds that were escaping from Lina's full mouth.

She could _feel_ eyes on her, peering through the night and into their bedroom window. For what creature would not deign to prey upon three females alone, beyond the edge of the village where no one would hear their screams of agony? She could easily imagine the creatures that watched them with malicious intent, horrible creatures with hulking bodies and saliva dripping from gnashing teeth; waiting for their prey's moment of weakness before they attacked with eyes that glowed a devil's red, with fingers like talons deigning to tear through her soft flesh. Creatures cursed by the fae to live vicious half-lives, always seeking blood. Always seeking human flesh.

She fingered the uncut sapphire that hung at the base of her throat, a shudder running through her very soul.

"They can't get in you know," it was Anya's voice, grating against her nerves that broke through the sounds of the night. "Nuvian spelled the house to prevent any fae-creature from entering. There's no point worrying about it."

Oh, of course precious little Anya would pretend to be brave. But she did not doubt Nuvian's work…no she could not.

She curled her lip upwards in a snarl, almost something akin to the fae-cursed that could have been waiting outside their front door. Blocked from the beautiful, shimmering runes that Nuvian created. "Oh? And what did you pay him, dear little sister, for such a service?"

Anya blinked, the insipid little fool. She had not a thought in her head. "The fae-hunter requested only a bear-pelt to ward off the winters chill."

Siri laughed; a lovely sound, like bells. Of course she would say that. She would have bribed him with something more, using the stunning looks that were passed down from their mother. She would have batted those sooty eyelashes and twirled her auburn hair around her fingertips. She would have leant against his work bench provocatively, the swell of her hips easily visible by those tight leather breeches she wore.

And Nuvian would have laughed, taking pity on her. He would have performed the rune-spells over their house in an attempt to gain favour with their father. With _her_ father.

Siri glared at Anya, who did nothing but turn her head and look out the dark window.

_Scrape._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The road that lead to their humble farmhouse was run down, a bare dirt track that would soon be overrun by the pretty white-flowered weeds that Siri thought were _beautiful_. And beautiful women deserved to be surrounded by beautiful things.

Anya scoffed as she ran the currycomb across Jaidev's hindquarters until the handsome bay mare shone in the early morning sun. Eyes the colour of warm cocoa glanced once more towards that run down road, towards the village two hours to the east. Away from the dark forest that loomed behind their house. Away from the ill-fated family who had lost everything.

She wished her father were home, though it would still be a sennight before he returned.

Jaidev nudged her softly and Anya laughed, stroking the mare's mane. But the horse whinnied, an unnerving sound that made Anya to freeze, her hand resting on the dagger that never left her belt. Her heart pounded within her chest as something glimmered across the edge of her vision.

She turned, slowly, cautiously.

But the apparition was gone, as if it had never been there.

But she knew differently.

She drew the dagger, her eyes scanning the forest that rose behind their farmhouse like a mountain. The ferns and bushed waged war with the fence that marked the edge of their property, where shadows always lingered even when the sun shone its highest at midday. She exhaled softly, her feet shifting in the grass beneath her. Centering herself. The forest seemed to taunt her. Dark and dangerous, yet beautiful. But she knew what those dark trees hid, though beyond the tree-line everything was cast into shadow, hidden from view.

It was why the farm had been so cheap when her father had purchased it two years past.

She knew there was a fae watching her; she could feel it along her spine, by the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She knew that somewhere just beyond view there was a creature of unearthly beauty. Deadly beauty. For she knew that a single fae could be far more dangerous that any fae-cursed creature of the night, though in all her wandering she'd not yet encountered one. Glimpsed, yes. But never before had she had to fight one of the stunning, winged beings. Nor did she ever want to. For if the fae-cursed were so twisted, then the beings that created them would be so much worse.

Jaidev whinnied once more, nudging the small of Anya's back.

"Yes, yes, I know," she didn't dare utter anything more than a whisper. "Let's get you inside."

With light steps, her hand gripping her dagger with ease, she led Jaidev to the stable that was little more than a shack. Though at least it would be warm in the harsh winter ahead, for it was piled with straw, bales stacked against the walls.

A glance at the house showed her sisters in their living area, their hands lost in folds of cloth. Anya shook her head softly. Forever embroidering the dresses they wished were more beautiful, more expensive. Like the dresses they once had, before they'd had to sell everything they owned and move to the isolated little farmhouse where everyday living was a gamble.

She shook her head once more, banishing the thoughts that threatened to drown her. She would not be unhappy with that which she could not change; she could only make the best of it as she had so far. At least she wasn't the strange daughter of a merchant; a strange one whose beauty was wasted for she preferred breeches and fencing to lovely dresses and men.

She would not wish for anything different, for wishes were useless things. You could only _make _things happen.

…**.**

Adresyn nodded to the groom to take his mount away, a spritely lad of little more than eight. He wished he had more than the single copper coin to give the lad who had caught it eagerly.

Adresyn knew that one new to the city would be able to do naught but stare as they moved through the crowded streets. And though he was no stranger to the bustle, it struck him anew as he began the path through the crowded streets towards the docks. Everything was too perfect, too surreal to be real. The perfect stone of the buildings were even more beautiful up close; and he dimly noted that all of the windows held glass, unlike his own humble cottage that had only wooden shutters to keep out winter's chilly kiss. Stunning tapestries were on display, as bright as the sun with colours so true they could have been memories plucked straight from the mind and shown to him.

He wished he could purchase one for his daughters; how they would delight in the wonderful needlework. At least Siri and Lina would.

He made his way through stalls set up on either side of the wide streets. And between them all people of every colour laughed, their sparkling eyes dancing, sparkling as the marble around them. Through their laughter and chatter he heard the sweet and merry tune of a flute playing, a soft drum beat picking up. The sound of dancing feet. A smile graced his lips. If anything, it was the laughter of the city he missed.

"A fine gown for your sweetheart, my lord," a woman called to her, gesturing to a deep crimson gown of the finest weave. The delicate embroidery winked at him as she past, alluring and as tempting as any lady of the night. His eyes raked over the fine clothes, shimmering in every colour imaginable. But he simply smiled and shook his head politely, he could not afford them. Not yet at least.

He loathed to be away from his daughters; his beautiful, talented daughters that reminded him so much of their mother. He hated the forest that had claimed her life even before they had moved to the fae-cursed place. But they could afford nowhere else. But his sweet, fierce little Anya would protect them with her rune-dagger and her arrows.

He was wrenched from his thoughts by a shrill whistle and giggles. She was stunning, with hair like spun gold and brilliant blue eyes, he would not be surprised if she had fae blood in her family. She offered a sultry wink, leaning out the window to provide him with an ample view of her bosom.

He turned away; he would not waste any of his precious money on prostitutes. If he had any to spare it would go towards gifts for his daughters who had been deprived of so much.

He had been rich once. A great and powerful silk merchant with a fleet of ships that travelled to every known land. The king had once purchased a deep burgundy silk from him to please his most recent mistress. He wondered idly who occupied the great mansion atop the hill that had once been his.

All those material things, all his wealth, robbed from him by a single storm two years past. A freak tempest that had swallowed his trading empire whole, sending his precious ships and their cargo to the deep abyss of the ocean.

All except one ship.

A sennight past a messenger had arrived at his farm, informing him that the ship in question had returned to the city after two years.

And that was why he risked his daughter's lives by leaving them alone at the farm; for there was a slim chance that he could begin again with that one ship. He could rebuild his empire and give his daughters everything they deserved and more. Perhaps it was the _Beauty_, which had been carrying a shipment of exotic spices and silks from the west. Or the _Myrmaid,_ upon which endless treasures had been held: gold and jewels that he hoped to surprise his daughters with.

…**.**

Anya let out an exasperated sigh as she walked beside Jaidev. She would have ridden, but the mare had enough to bear whilst pulling the rickety cart that was piled with foods and the pelts of animals she caught in the forest. It wasn't annoyance that she felt, not exactly. It was more bafflement as to why her sisters had insisted upon travelling the two hours with her to the village.

For they knew they would have to walk, ambling a few paces behind the cart, making sure the hems of their newly embroidered dresses did not on the road that was more mud than solid ground. At least they'd both had the sense to wear boots and not the delicate little slippers that women of the Court were so fond of.

She didn't pay attention to their idle gossip, talking about this villager or that, exclamations followed by soft giggles. She knew that both of them wished to escape their dreary existence at the farm; and perhaps they could. For many men would take a poor woman on her beauty alone, and both sisters had plenty of that with their luscious auburn curls and bright eyes.

She risked a glance at them from the corner of her eyes.

Siri was plucking a wildflower the colour of the sky – one that matched her eyes so perfectly – and Lina was threading them through her thick braid. A strange mix between the brightest copper and the softest brown. The colour that their mothers hair had been. Perhaps the only thing that all three of the sisters shared.

They had asked their father to return from the city with beautiful silks and jewels so they could return to Court and ensnare wealthy husbands. For what more could they want? She could almost hear their thoughts…will father get me that beautiful blue silk that matches my hair so well? With sapphires ear bobs to match? Or perhaps gold thread to embroider new slippers?

Anya had been more realistic; she knew there was little chance that their wealth had returned, for it was only a single ship that had miraculously survived. So when their father had asked what she wanted him to get her from the city, she'd paused and looked out the window to the darkness of the forest beyond their flimsy fence. A rune-sword, a beautiful creations of silverwork and delicate powerful runes; the picture had been so vivid in her mind's eye.

Anya's hand fell to the sword that was strapped to her waist beside her precious rune-knife; her beloved sword whose leather hilt was falling apart at the seams, dipped in silver that no amount of polish could make shine again.

She had not asked her father for a new sword. She'd asked him for a single rose; like the ones that had grown on the balcony of their old home. The kind that their mother had twined through their hair when they'd been children.

"Anya!"

She smiled at the girl who ran up to her, clutching her stomach with an innocent grin. Mariia looked like most from the village, with her dark hair and even darker eyes. But her smile was all her own as she tugged on Anya's hand.

"You must come see Larsyn's wares!"

Anya smiled. "Perhaps later, I have to set up our own stall."

Mariia curled up her delicate nose. "Sirisha and Nalini can do that! You do it every single time!"

Anya ruffled her hair and moved along, guiding Jaidev to their spot beside the blacksmith's, where her eyes lingered for a moment before she shook her head. Produce and pelts, it was too tedious for her elder sisters who had disappeared already.

Perhaps they went to charm some cinnamon rolls off the baker, whose son was Anya's own age and very marriageable.

The blacksmith offered her a grin as he laid out his own wares, beautifully crafted weapons. But, they were only for display. The village folk would go to him for commissions, for new horseshoes, for nails and tools for their gardens. The village folk needed him to get by.

People would avoid her if they could; the villages thought her strange, even fae, for going into the forest as she did. But where else would they get pelts to ward of the winter chill that was swiftly approaching. For_ they_ certainly would not hunt beneath the fae-cursed bowers of those twisted trees.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

She didn't need to look up to know it was Nuvian's shadow that had fallen across the lovely grey wolf-pelt. But she looked up anyway, to see his cocky grin, and the crossbow that was resting easily on his shoulder.

"Expecting trouble?" She did not pause in her work, stacking the fruit preserves and jams that Siri was so good at making.

Nuvian leaned closer, his lips curling up even more. His breath fanned across her face and Anya froze, her hand going automatically to her belt. But her knife was resting on the table beside a mulberry jam, glinting at her almost mockingly. "It pays to be prepared, you know," he gave her a slow wink, an eyelid covering one of his eyes. The colour of the rolling clouds overhead. He looked around them, his voice dipping as if they were discussing the great secrets of the world. "Any one of the villagers could be fae in disguise and we'd never know." He laughed, leaning backwards. Anya's breath left her and she let a small laugh escape her. Though even to her ears it sounded somewhat forced.

She could easily understand why Siri was so drawn to the fae-hunter; he was quite different from anyone else she had met. He stood well over six feet, dwarfing her own tiny frame. In black cloth and dark leathers he look ominous; like one of the hunters had stepped straight out of a story book. The hood of his deep blue cloak had been thrown back despite the threat of rain, to reveal silver blonde hair, the colour of starlight and his handsome profile. But his eyes, those silvery, stormy eyes were easily his best feature. Handsome indeed; so much more so than most.

But she also knew why _she_ disliked him so much; of course she could appreciate that he was skilled, one had to be an excellent fighter to be a fae hunter. And his rune-spells were exquisite, there was a subtle kind of beauty in being able to create something like the wards he had placed upon their house that protected them when she could not.

Those things she could handle. It was those magnificent eyes that she could not handle, those mysterious orbs that seemed as if they were undressing her piece by piece. Under his gaze she wished as if the ground would swallow her whole.

"And someone needs to protect the uncommonly beautiful women of the village from such horrible monsters."

And he winked again, before departing in a swirl of sapphire cloak.

Anya pursed her lips, raising a brow in response. She was perhaps one of the only women in the village who _could_ protect herself.

As the village's only fae-hunter proficient in rune-magik, Nuvian was not going anywhere. She had tried to learn rune-magik, she'd been trying for years, but she had not the ability. Something within her stopped her to the point of acute pain. She could write the runes well enough – she could understand what every little mark meant. But they would not do anything for her. They were simple words that held no magik.

With a sigh she settled into the small chair and waited.

It was going to be a long market day.

*****Read and review my lovelies : ) If you have any questions, don't hesitate in asking xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Adresyn ran his hands through his greying hair, a scowl upon his once-handsome face. All seized?

He wanted to sob, however unmanly it seemed. He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. He wanted to burn down the forest that had claimed his wife's life; he wanted to drain the ocean that had claimed his fleet of ships and left him a poor man. He wanted to strangle the debt collectors who had seized the entire cargo of the _Beauty_ in order to cover the debt he'd left behind when he left the city. He thought he had paid it all off. But apparently there'd been _interest_.

He stroked his mare's neck as they made their way out of the city, leaving behind the small hotel room, which he had to pay for with the very last of his money.

He'd travelled to the city for no reason. He'd left his daughters alone, at the mercy of the forest and fae, for no reason.

And he wouldn't be able to purchase any of the presents he'd promised them. He remembered the lovely gowns he'd passed on his way through the markets – heavenly silks with the finest embroideries, with pearls and diamonds decorating the busts and hems of the sleeves. They would look like queen's such adorned; they would look like the ethereal fae.

With a sigh he paused at the fork in the road, the city a multitude of twinkling lights and laughter behind him.

He had to get back to his children as soon as he could.

And so he veered the mare to the left rather than the right. It was a short-cut, he knew that. Though he had not taken it before. For it lead straight through the fae-cursed forest that had taken his wife's life. But it would take days off his journey.

Adresyn pulled his cloak tighter about his body, urging the hesitant horse forward. He would brave the forest, for it would take him home faster. It would take him back to his family.

…**.**

Lina scrubbed. Her hands were red from the hot water, almost bleeding from the rough cloth that moved over the dishes that were still, _still _dirty. So she scrubbed.

She didn't turn to Siri, who was scowling over the fine embroidery of an old dress. A lost cause dress. She couldn't tell Siri.

She'd had the dream again the night past, she'd awoken in the dead of night to stuff the pillow in her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

She paused from the dish washing to glance out the small kitchen window. Anya was riding past, elegant atop the bay mare that she was so found of. Sitting like a man in those scandalous breeches and loose cotton shirt, the uncut ruby bouncing between her breasts.

Lina bit her lip to stop herself from crying aloud. Anya had been wearing the same clothes in her dream. She'd been lying in the snow. Lost, forgotten. Lifeless, red, red blood seeping into the pristine white that surrounded her. Her chest had been little more than a gaping hole of gore and stark white bones. Cocoa eyes, framed by thick, black lashes stared up at the dark sky, unseeing. Never seeing again.

Bloody footprints around her. Fae-cursed werewolf prints and the shallower tread of a true fae.

Lina shuddered, her knuckles white as she gripped the plate.

"Aren't you done yet?" Siri scoffed.

But Lina didn't turn; she didn't want Siri to ask why she was so pale, as if she'd seen a ghost. She wouldn't tell Siri about the dreams. Not after she'd been jilted by Nuvian at the markets the day past.

She stared down at the water in the sink, at her heart-shaped face with its beautiful emerald eyes,

at the blood that slowly swirled around. So much blood. She wasn't a stranger to blood; she'd seen her mother's horse after it had galloped back to their estate, riderless and covered in blood. She remembered her father's face, his agonised cry; little three year old Anya's cries for a mother that would not come. But she'd not been surprised, not really.

She'd dreamt of twisted tree limbs, of ghostly forms and sinister laughs for months before that fateful day.

She scrubbed the cloth against the dish, ignoring the blood, and sending ripples across the image of her face. The dreams meant nothing. For she had plenty of nonsense dreams that meant nothing, dreams of gossamer gowns and resplendent balls. Dreams of handsome kings and princes that would sweep her off her feet and into their beds without pause.

Those dreams did not come true.

She was not fae-cursed with true dreams.

She _would_ not be.

For no man would want a damaged woman.

…**.**

Anya was silent as she stalked through the forest. Her soft-soled boots made no sound on the bracken underfoot; footsteps lighter than any male could hope to achieve. The forest was lush and dense, overflowing with life and danger. The canopy – tens of feet above her head – completely blocked out the rays of the late afternoon, any rays that would have gotten through the looming thunderclouds.

The deer was not too far ahead, a lone deer that would not make it through the night. It would feed the three of them easily; Lina would be able to dry out the leftover meat and store it for true winter. She'd made enough money at the market to purchase a sack of salt, as well as some pretty baubles that her sisters could sew onto their gowns.

She paused, mid-step and flattened herself against the tree. She'd glimpsed the deer in a gap between the trees before her. With a soft smile Anya reach for the quiver of arrows on her back. One shot was all she needed from that distance.

She wasn't as good with a bow as she was with a sword, but she didn't miss all that often. Not anymore. The poles in their fence had enough holes in it to attest to that. She almost laughed aloud at the thought.

But then she froze, her hand brushing against the feather of one of the arrows.

Her breath left her in a soft exhalation. She scanned the gnarled trees, tracing every twisted branch that suddenly seemed to be reaching out to her.

With slow movements she placed the already strung bow on the ground, the deer in the clearing beyond all but forgotten.

But she'd not taken a step when a solid form crashed into her own, sending her sprawling across the ground with it on top of her.

A snarl escaped her and she acted on instinct, twisting in the way she'd learnt in the city, she shifted her weight, dropping suddenly so her attacker overbalanced. And then she pounced, pinning them on their back her knife at their throat where the pulse was beating rapidly.

A throat that was all too smooth. Her heart started beating faster. Perhaps it was a fae beneath her?

She dug her knees deeper into their sides. But then she noticed the small trickled of red blood, human blood, that ran from her blade. It was not the silver of a fae blood.

"Gods, Anya, get off me!"

Anya blinked and yanked back to hood of the cloak to reveal a mop of unruly chocolate hair and mahogany eyes that were dancing with laughter. Mariia's older brother was laughing at her.

And so she punched him.

Which only served to make him laugh even louder.

With a scowl Anya pushed herself up, placing a foot on his chest so he couldn't move. "You scared away the deer, you oaf!"

"And you cut me with your pretty knife," Elias grinned at her. "I'd say we're even."

Anya swore: a string of curses that would have impressed the most seasoned sailor. "We'll be even if you help me get another. Deal?"

He would agree, she knew he would. She'd been friend with Elias since their arrival at the village, he'd helped her learn how to shoot and she'd taught him how to use a sword.

With a soft laugh she picked up her bow from where she'd placed it behind the tree, smiling as she realised the string hadn't snapped. But as she straightened, there was a glimmer of _something_ in the corner of her eye. "Maybe we should get home Elias, I think it's going to snow soon and I haven't been Jaidev away."

"What about your deer?" He was worried, she could hear it in his voice.

But she just shook her head. "I'll come back tomorrow." _Because we might not live til tomorrow if we don't go. _

…**.**

Adresyn shivered as another snowflake found its way down the back of his shirt, his horse dancing nervously beneath him. He hoped the girls were fine, that they'd fixed the shutters so they closed fully to keep the snow out.

He didn't know when he'd left the track; it had been barely visible from the start. For the creatures that used it frequently did not tread as heavy as humans or horses. His mare was growing increasingly agitated as the snow fell harder, covering everything in a soft layer of white. It was picturesque, but Adresyn could not pause to admire the spectacle.

He couldn't tell what creatures were watching from the bowers of the trees, just beyond sight, any more than he could tell if he was going in the right direction. He wished Anya was with him, she would know what to do, for she spent more time in the forest than any other.

Somewhere, within the dark recess of the forest, a wolf howled.

_I hope it's not a fae-cursed werewolf. _

He gripped the reins tighter, urging the mare onwards.

Another howl, closer. Always closer.

And the mare reared, a terrified neigh leaving it as he slid backwards.

…**.**

Siri sighed, staring at her face in the cracked mirror as she applied more rogue to her lips and a soft tint to her cheeks. She smiled to herself, admiring the pleasant effect it had on her already beautiful face. A delicate face; small and heart-shaped with high cheekbones and a straight nose that tilted upwards slightly at the tip. Creamy white skin, like the most perfect alabaster, a colour that all the ladies of the Court hoped to achieve and despite her days in the garden, free of any freckles. Though her eyes were what captured everyone, she knew that. They were wide, with thick black lashes that didn't need to be darkened. But it was the colour that was startling; she did not inherit their fathers soft cocoa eyes, as Anya had, or the emerald-moss colour of Lina's eyes. No, of the three of them, only she had inherited their mothers stunning sapphire eyes that were the colour of a summer sky on a cloudless day. Eyes that perfectly matched the uncut sapphire that her mother had placed around her neck at her birth.

That she had not taken off since.

With a glance at her sleeping sisters, Siri rolled her eyes. They were so unconcerned; Lina at least had the sense to braid her hair before bed so it didn't tangle so easy. She knew what creams to rub on her hands so she didn't develop any unseemly callouses.

But Anya was a lost cause; Siri had known that since she'd turned three and ten. For the fae little girl had opted to continue her fencing lessons instead of forgoing them as she and Lina had. She had insisted on running around in breeches, despite her blossoming body. Siri suspected that she was aware of the leering looks she received for her growing beauty. _Precious_ Anya, whom everyone had adored.

"Don't hurt her," Lina's voice startled her. It was so clear, so defined that Siri was sure she had been talking about her thoughts of Anya. But a glance to her sleeping sister showed that she was sleeping. If not soundly. She'd turned over, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows drawn downwards as if she were in pain. "You promised you would love her."

Siri's interest was peaked. Had Lina's dreams started once more? The ones she'd had as a child? "Who promised to love her?" Siri whispered, kneeling beside Lina's bed and brushing her hair back gently.

"The wild one, the one who must not be named," Lina whimpered. "He's going to kill her. He'll rip out her heart and eat it."

A tortured cry.

"Who's heart, Lina?"

A shaky inhalation.

"He's going to eat Anya's heart; after everything she did for him. The King's going to eat her heart."

…**.**

"Papa, papa, come back to us!" It was Anya's voice, he was sure, sweet little Lavanya with her wild spirit and even wilder fighting style.

"Papa, don't give up." Was Siri pleading? With _him_? Bold, proud Siri?

"Papa, we need you," Lina's soft voice.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but white. A bone-chilling cold seared through him as he slowly sat up. Though nothing was broken, his horse was nowhere in sight. There wasn't even any hoof prints to tell him which way the mare had bolted.

But his daughters were there with him, in spirit.

His head was spinning, the blood pounding.

And he was cold.

So cold.

Opening his eyes a little more he froze, his breath caught in his throat at the vision before him. It was _her_. Beautiful, stunning, kind Kythaela. His Kythaela. His wife.

He knows it in his snow-chilled bones that it's her. Though her form blurs slightly as he blinks, she seemed to be beckoning him.

To follow her.

He would follow her anywhere.

Her footsteps make no sound, not like his do. The snow crunched beneath his feet, but still he followed her.

She wore a gown of the purest white, her auburn hair like a river of fire; so bright against the stark blacks and whites of the forest around them.

A wolf howled behind him in the distance. Something scuttled across the snow behind him.

But he didn't hear it, not quite. He just followed the ghostly apparition before him.

And then there were gates, opening before him, though he saw no one opening them. A snow-dusted path, with bushes one either side.

Beautiful, flowering rose bushes that looked as if they had been frozen.

But he didn't pause before them; no, he just followed the path, though _she_ was gone. He palace before him was dazzling, a towering white marble structure with light streaming from the windows.

It seemed to promise safety, and warmth; he felt as if his limbs were about to fall off, for he'd not worn any furs. He'd not meant to go so far north.

He didn't think to question why the doors were open as if waiting for him.

Nor did he question the table that was laden with food. He knew the tales of fae food, about how it could make you fae-cursed, to ensnare you to the will of the fae. But he was so hungry. So, so hungry and the food was so warm.

The heavenly aroma invaded his brain and he ate.

He could see them, only if he didn't quite look at them. They flittered about in his peripherals, never harming, never getting any closer.

They were watching him.

_And there was no harm in watching. _

And so when he was full, he let them lead him. Though not quite leading him as guiding. It was a bedroom that he found himself in, a fire crackling heartily in the corner. And without complaint, or even a word, he fell onto the plush bed.

*****Read and review my lovelies xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This one's just a short one, just to move things along : ) **

**Chapter 4**

The gardens were beautiful and Adresyn could not help but whistle a merry tune as he moved towards the gate that would let him out of the castle. He'd awoken from a deep slumber to a heavenly warmth, to food beside his bed and a mug of warm tea. Rich, spicy tea – the kind which he'd not had since he'd been declared bankrupt.

He'd only wished that his daughters were able to bask in the splendour of the castle.

But he knew not to linger, lest the fae that inhabited the strange place decided they did not want him to leave.

He ambled through the tranquil paths, where beautiful flowers blossomed despite the winter of the north. A fountain bubbled somewhere to his right, fae-spelled, he assumed, for surely it should have been frozen solid. He passed a series of low benches, the kind he could imagine the Court ladies lounging on during the day, soaking up the gentle sunlight.

He couldn't be sure what made him turn, but he was glad that he did; for upon a pedestal of white marble there lay a beautiful crystal rose. It was stunning in its perfection, as if the sculpture had simply frozen a winter rose.

Perhaps…

He stepped towards it, a smile on his face for the first time in what seemed like years. All Anya had asked for was a rose…Perhaps she would be pleased with on carved of crystal. Surely the master of the castle, whatever the fae-cursed creature was, would not miss a single glass rose from all the treasures that Adresyn had seen on his way through the decadent halls.

No, he would not.

And so the merchant-turned-farmer picked up the rose. The perfect specimen of a winter rose. The kind that Kythaela had always adored; so much so that she'd planted whole rows of them on the balconies of their mansion atop the hill.

He began whistling once more as he walked down to path, towards the road. Towards his daughters.

But something was wrong, he knew that before he turned, before he even heard the soft footsteps that followed him. Dread stole through his body and he wondered how Anya could stand the forests, knowing that inhuman creatures stalked her from the trees. But Adresyn had no silver-tipped weapon to protect him, he didn't know how to cast any runes of protection.

He stopped in his tracks as the shadow fell over him, warmth at his back despite the snow that covered the ground and the chill that lingered in the air. He knew it was not a human that stood behind him, with growls tearing from its throat. The shadow revealed something far more sinister; a hulking body, easily twice his own breadth and a foot and a half taller, with horns protruding its head.

"You greedy, filthy human," the voice was a low rumble, like an oncoming avalanche or the thunder rolling in the distance.

Adresyn turned, his heart like ice as he looked upon the master of the castle. Eyes the colour of amber glared at him. Unnaturally bright in a face that would cause dear Lina to faint.

"After all I have given you, you would steal from me?" His fury was thunderous, those fae-cursed golden eyes snapping with rage.

Adresyn fell to his knees. Trembling. Cowering. "Please forgive me."

He could not look upon the thin before him; instead he stared at the white petals of the rose he held, he did not pause at the blood that welled on his hand from the rose's thorns.

"You accepted my hospitality, human, and you repay me by taking a most precious possession," his voice bespoke power, strength and nothing that was at all human. "For this you must die."

…**.**

Nuvian tightened his grip on the bow as he moved beneath the forest canopy, a silent stalker amidst the darkness. He did not feel the cold, for his cloak was spelled to keep the cold out; those who could see magik would see the runes stitched into the hem of the deep blue material.

Serviceable leather boots made no sound on the forest floor as he followed his prey.

It hadn't done anything, but it might. And so he had to destroy it, for the safety of the village.

He thought of Anya, protected by only her tiny rune-knife, at the edge of the forest. All alone. The perfect prey. For everyone knew that the fae coveted beautiful things, especially beautiful human females and the spark of life they carried within them.

Everyone was in danger of the vicious fae who would suck the soul from the body, leaving nothing but an empty, lifeless husk. For he knew that for years, decades even, they had been without the guidance of their weakling king. It was only a matter of time before they began to leave the wild forests that had housed them for so long and started preying on those in the village.

He thought about Anya's rickety little farmhouse, so close to the edge of the forest. They would be the first taken; the beautiful daughters of the fallen merchant. They would keep the youngest as a plaything perhaps, for with her too-tight leather breeches and almost see-through cotton shirts she would entertain them for a while. They would be drawn to the vibrant auburn of her hair, the soft chocolate human eyes that were framed by thick black lashes, and that oh-so-soft mouth that would drive any many, human or fae, to distraction.

He would rid the forest of the foul vermin and then _she_ would be his. She would not be able to resist him, for he was sure that deep down she craved romance and attention like any female. But it was her fire that he wanted, he wanted her body and soul. He didn't want Siri who looked down upon the other men of the village, prideful enough to be fae herself; with those summer blue eyes that were too cunning. He didn't want simpering Lina, with eyes like the new leaves of spring. It was Anya he wanted, the youngest and perhaps even the most beautiful.

And so he would have her; for he deserved the best.

With a satisfied grin he let the arrow fly, almost grinning at the pained cry that left the fae's lips; an inhuman screech as the silver-tipped arrow pierced its body.

…**.**

"Please, do not do this," Adresyn knew his voice was trembling, but he couldn't make it stop. He couldn't die; he couldn't leave his daughters without any parents. The beast before him would not understand that, it couldn't comprehend the love he felt for his girls. But he had to try, despite the danger that flashed in its golden eyes. "Please, I thought only of my youngest, my Anya. It was for her. Please, my daughters are my life."

Taloned hands curled into fists, scarred lips curled upwards in a snarl to reveal the too-sharp incisors. Save for the horns and taloned hands and feet, the creature could have passed for a man; if it were dark and one did not look too closely. Save for the mass of vicious scars that crossed across his face, a truly hideous face, surrounded by thick locks of black. "Tell me of them."

The man started, closing his eyes. "My daughters…my beautiful, sweet daughters. They are everything to me," he inhaled, picturing their sweet faces in his mind. Flashes of them growing up, learning to fence on their mothers bequest, each of them wearing the uncut stones she'd given to them upon their births. Auburn hair, sweet soft lips that curled into smiles so readily. Innocence that shone in their faces despite the hardships they faced. And so he spoke, and it was as if the floodgates had been opened. The beast, the creature before him, had to understand the preciousness of his daughters. "Sirisha is my eldest, two score and two this year, she should be wed by now. I have failed her in that, but she is beautiful enough to tempt any man; she makes the sweetest fruit preserves in the village. Her wit is sharper than any I've ever met. Nalini is perhaps the softest of the three, a fine embroiderer, a gentle soul. And Anya…what can I say to describe her? She is a wild, free thing. So much like her mother…"

"Enough," the beast growled and Adresyn froze.

_He had to see his daughters, if not one last time before he died. So they would understand that he had not abandoned them. _

And perhaps the fae-cursed beast before him had read his thoughts, for it was regarding him almost _thoughtfully_. "You have a week, human. A single week to bid farewell to your children."

A week.

"But you must return before the sun falls on the seventh day. These are the terms human. If you break them your precious daughters will be killed before your eyes by my servants. Their hearts will be torn out and eaten and there will be nothing you can do to stop it."

He nodded, still not daring to rise. He dared not think it was some kind of twisted fae-trick

*****Read and review my lovelies, please tell me what you think…pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease : ) xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Anya shifted her footing slightly, feeling the hard compacted dirt. Her grip on her sword was sure, for she'd been trained for as long as she had the strength to lift a blade, if not before. The blade did not shine brilliant silver in the sunlight as it used to, but the silver was still there and just as deadly to fae as the harming-runes.

She swung the blade in a circle, twirling it with ease despite the protests of her muscles from the mornings labour. She waiting for her imaginary opponent, her balance perfect on the balls of her feet, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Then she was moving forwards, the blade twirling in a series of down chopping blows, before sweeping it in an elegant crescent moon.

Another shuffle of feet and a swift spin and her opponent had fallen. Anya grinned, pushing an errant hair out of her face from where it had escaped her braid.

She paused, her head cocked to the side as the sound reached her ears. The tell-tale sound of wheels on the dirt path.

She swung around, blade readied, her perfect brows drawn downwards. Her cocoa eyes narrowed at the dirt path as slowly, ever so slowly the carriage moved over the soft slope.

And Anya's eyes widened.

Never before had she seen such a resplendent carriage, not even when they had lived in the city. The panels were the darkest mahogany, polished to a shine and gilded with gold. The wheels could have been solid gold for all their shine, with intricately carved roses moving from the centre towards the rims; perfect in their detail.

Pulling it were two stunning mares of the purest white, their bridles deep vermillion, with gold trim and perfectly cut rubies embroidered into them. Anya knew she was staring, her sword falling to her side. For atop the magnificent carriage, leading the mares with an expert hand, was her father, dressed in the richest velvet doublet she'd ever seen. A girdle of gold and leather encircled his waist and she could see an amethyst drop in his ear.

He was dressed like a king.

"PAPA!" Anya didn't drop her sword, she'd never disrespect a weapon so. But she almost did before hastily sheathing it and running to her father.

She heard a gasp at the door, though whether it had been Siri or Lina she didn't know. She didn't care. She'd been so worried about their father getting lost in the woods and being eaten by werewolves, or vampyres, or worse. But he hadn't been. She launched herself at him, a cry of joy tearing through he as he lifted her and spun her around as she had when she'd been a child.

"My sweet, sweet Anya," there was something strange about his voice. There was something wrong. But Anya pushed it from her mind, glad to have her father back safe.

…**.**

Elias couldn't help but glare at the fae-hunter who was laughing outrageously at something he'd said to one of his drinking companions. He'd killed another fae the day before. A dangerous beast, he'd said, with eyes that flashed like fire and hair of the brightest copper. Its wings had been sparkling gold in life, but they hung limp and lifeless on the wall behind them. A trophy.

Like the stags heads that hunters mounted on walls in the cities.

Elias scowled into the earthenware mug of mead.

"She'll be my wife!" Nuvian's voice rang out above the din and Elias had no doubt of who he was speaking of.

"You know, anyone would think you planned on taking the pretty lass, yourself," it was Larsyn's voice that startled him from his thoughts. And he glanced across to see the village's blacksmith scull down his own drink. The man's almost black eyes were dancing at him, set in a face that was darker than most. For he spent hours labouring in front of the fires in his forge, the size of his arms a testament to the use of the billows. But there was no soot streaked across the blacksmith's swarthy face. Instead there was jovial teasing.

"I don't want Anya for myself, smith," Elias rolled his eyes, knowing that the blacksmith wouldn't believe him. Though he spoke the truth: Anya was like a little sister to him, an annoyingly pretty little sister than always bested him in sword work. "But she does not want Nuvian."

"I would not speak so loud if I were you," Larsyn's eyes sought his own. Trying to tell him something. But what? "You do not want the fae-hunter as an enemy, lad. He's a dangerous man to cross. Not anyone can take down a fae."

_I bet Anya could. Even without Nuvian's fancy runes. _But he didn't utter it aloud. Instead he forced a laugh. "He'd be much more suited to Sirisha, they would make such beautiful babies. Fair-haired and blue-eyed."

Larsyn guffawed, thumping his fist on the table as the laughter left him. For he too had witness the spectacle at the last market day: when Siri had approached the fae-hunter with that coy smile of hers. Only to be turned away from in favour of her youngest sister.

…**.**

Adresyn watched as Siri and Lina twirled around their humble living area. Siri had adorned herself in a gown of the palest blue, like the colour just after dusk, the embroidery so fine it was as if someone had sprinkled gold dust over the hem. She'd threaded strands of gold and strings of sapphires through her hair, which cascaded unbound down her back.

"Dressed thus I should enchant even the King himself," she crooned, a blissful smile on her face. She spread the skirts and twirled once more, giggling like a maid of six and ten rather than over two-score. Yes, she would have to be wed soon. The contents of the chests around them would provide sufficient dowry's for all three of them. So much so that even the nobles would take interest in them.

He hadn't expected the Beast to supply him with a beautiful carriage when he went on his way. Nor had he expected it to be loaded with chests of jewels and fine gowns. His daughters should not suffer for his mistakes, the Beast had said. But they must know of the deal, he'd stressed. For if even one found out the consequences would be dire.

Lina was stroking the beautiful cloth with a wistful smile, no doubt thinking about recreating the stunning detail in the hem of the emerald gown. And she had enough jewels to sew them into the bust: he did not doubt she would create a dress that would outshine the beauty of the stars.

He knew Anya was watching him, a frown upon her face as she tried to discover what was on his mind. He should have known that she would not be distracted by the chests of beautiful that she so deserved.

But he would not tell her; he could not. For her own safety she and her sisters could never know of the vicious beast and his enchanted castle.

…**.**

Anya watched her father through the crack in the door as he paced, worry apparent on his warm features. Was that grey she saw beginning to appear in his hair? He was mumbling beneath his breath; words that she could not hear.

And so she edged closer, pushing herself as close to the door as she dared before it swung open to reveal her. She could no longer see him, but his brisk footsteps rung through the silent night.

"Can't let them know," he was whispering. "But then what will I tell them? That I have to leave them? Or do I just disappear into the dead of night?" she could imagine he was running his hands through his hair once more. "I can't tell them that a fae-cursed beast has laid claim to my life. That I have til the end of the week to return or he kills us all."

She heard the squeak of the mattress as it dipped under his weight. Then the soft even sighs of sleep. "I love my children too much…" His voice, even in slumber was agonised.

In that instant her decision was made.

With a breath she opened the door. Wrapping her cloak about her and securing her knife and sword to her belt she crept to where her father slept, a hasty note scribbled on a torn piece of parchment would have to be enough. She could not tell them where she was going; for they would surely stop her. She would have to capture a fae she supposed, and threaten it with her rune-knife, for it to tell her where the beasts lair lay. Probably a vast maze where it kept stolen treasures hidden. She reached into the chest, counting a few rubies into her palm before slipping them into a purse at her belt.

But something made her stop, a slight glimmer in the corner of her eye perhaps, but she looked down at her father. On his chest lay a map, beautifully detailed. Without pause she grasped it, placing her note on his chest instead. Then with a small sigh she kissed his forehead.

"Sorry, Papa," she whispered softly. "But I will be back."

Then she stole through the dead of night, sacks tied onto Jaidev's hooves to muffle the footsteps. She skirted around the village before the moon had moved to far in the sky. She could not stop there; not where they knew her. For that would raise questions. Why would she need winter furs when the snow had only just began to fall, why would she need a solid silver rune-sword?

She hoped that someone would give Elias her farewells, in case she did not return. She didn't want him to think that she'd just abandoned him or anyone else.

Sparse woodlands gave way to rolling hills covered with white snow. The night started to bleed into dawn and Anya tightened her cloak against her body, running a gloved hand across her mare's neck.

Jaidev had slowed to a trot before the next village became a speck on the horizon and Anya sat a little straighter. She'd been on her guard the entire night, waiting for some fae-cursed creature to accost her on her journey. But none came. Perhaps they were more sparse further north? Scared away by the vicious beast…

She would wait until a few hours after sunrise before entering the village, lest they thought her some sort of fae-creature. Then she would purchase the furs and sword. Something far more powerful than Nuvian could have spelled, something with more pure steel than anything Larsyn had ever forged.

Then she would ride to the beasts castle; she would free her father and slay the beast.

…**.**

"Anya!" Lina's startled cry rang through the little farmhouse as she sat bolt upright in bed, awoken by dreams once more. Her emerald eyes rested on her younger sisters empty bed and dread stole within her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, a cold shiver running through her at the contact.

"What is it Lina?" Siri's voice was groggy from sleep and she pushed the auburn hair from her face as she, too sat up.

But Lina didn't answer, she wrenched open the door to be met with the first rays of sunlight. "Papa! Anya's gone!"

She watched as their father was startled into wakefulness, grasping at the piece of paper on his chest. Then she watched as his eyes flitted down, and widened. His mouth opened, forming an 'o'. "No…"

"What is it Papa?" Lina edged forward, wary of the pure shock and agony that lined her father's face.

He looked up at her then, as if registering her presence, his eyes still wide. That deep cocoa that Anya had inherited. "My dear, the jewels came from no ship of mine. It was a fae-cursed beast, he was going to kill me. Anya had asked for a rose so I took one from his garden. A lovely glass rose that she would have loved. But the beast found me."

Lina picked up the torn piece of parchment that her father had dropped. _I will slay the beast for you Papa... _ And then she saw Anya lying unconscious in the snow, a hulking form above her, wings wide against the winter wild. "She's gone to slay the beast."

Siri scoffed from the doorframe. "Let her try. Surely even a beast would not harm a female. Fae like pretty things don't they? And besides, if Anya hadn't asked for a rose the beast would have let you go."

"But she could be in danger," Lina's voice was small, she couldn't help it as the images from her dreams assaulted her. Anya was in danger, she knew just it. Her silly headstrong sister was going to get claimed by the beast. Surely Anya's life wasn't worth the richest the Beast had given them?

But from the doorway Siri just scoffed one more. "If she gets herself killed she's got no one to blame but herself."

*****Read and review my lovelies, please tell me what you think…pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, I will send you love and and cookies and lots of good things if you let me know what you think : ) xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just for you Raelin ; ) being my first reviewer for this xxxx**

**Chapter 6**

Adamyr growled as he stalked through the snow, his taloned feet immune to the snow that fell beneath him. His did not dare to fly during the snowstorm, for he could be swept into oblivion and impaled upon one of the spires of his castle. So instead he tucked them tight against his back, hiding their monstrosity from view. His cloak flapped about him as he narrowed his eyes against the wind had turned the soft snow flakes into blades of ice that pierced through the heavy furs, chilling flesh to the bone of any human caught unawares by the sudden storm.

One of the cursed-werewolves howled in the distance. A call to tell others of food that had been found.

Adamyr paused, his furs ruffling in the deadly wind.

A human.

The werewolves had found a human so close to his castle.

Was it the human merchant returned already? Had he left his precious daughters before he needed to? Surely not. With a grunt Adamyr changed direction, bent low against the wind, and made his way towards the call of the blasted werewolf.

But it wasn't the merchant that he found, the body half-covered in snow was smaller. More…feminine. And in one of the leather-gloved hands was clutched the map he had given the merchant.

With a snarl Adamyr leant closer, ignoring the carcass of the horse not a few feet away. Red blood had frozen on her temple, and her wide eyes were closed. But she was breathing, barely. Adamyr needed no light to see by despite the dark night that fallen. And his inspection of her body surprised her; for it revealed a well-wrought rune-blade that would be able to kill even the most powerful of fae. A smaller dagger, also spelled.

A fae-hunter?

He snarled. Had the merchant gone to her in hopes of being rid of his deal?

Adamyr wanted to tear the unconscious human to shreds – a foolish human whose horse had not been able to handle the cold. No doubt it had thrown her, her head knocking against the tree that she lay against.

But…he looked at her face once more and cursed her beauty. Then he caught sight of the necklace that had fallen out of her shirt and the thick furs she wore, no doubt the only things that were keeping her alive. It was a beautiful uncut ruby, suspended on a golden chain. But it was not the beauty of it that caught his attention; it was the powerful runes that were etched across the crimson surface in a strange gold ink. Powerful magik that burned his vision.

Another growl left him as he lifted her delicate body, so small and fragile, and began the trek back to his castle.

…**.**

"Precious…"

The voice called out to her through the fog, imbued with a strange magik, it reached for her. She could feel the slender fingers grasping her shoulders, hard enough to bruise. She could feel the magik that dwelt within the being that held her. But when her eyelids fluttered open, it was not familiar eyes that gazed down at her. They were impossibly wide, tilted at the edges like a cats and a blue so deep and unfathomable that she could have been looking into the ocean.

The name drifted through her mind, unwelcome and unbidden. She almost cringed, settling for merely closing her eyes once more, as if she could wish the fae away. Her mind was foggy, her limb felt heavy. It was as if she had been brought back from the brink of death.

The last thing she remembered was the werewolf attacking Jaidev and her being thrown. She pierced the wolf with her knife, but it had thrown her against a tree…

"Darling…" the voice came again, louder, as if the speaker were hovering by her ear. It was the fae again and Anya groaned. Soft hands touched her shoulders, easing her upwards into a sitting position.

The room she was in was unfamiliar, the bed beneath her unbelievably soft, the covers over her body were like the softest silk. No sunlight streamed through the windows, for she could see outside the sky was dark; furious flurries of snow drifted across the windows, though it was not cold within the room. Warmer than could be attributed to the crackling hearth and the torches that lined the marble walls.

Despite the darkness outside, everything within seemed light and airy. Especially the blue-eyed fae that was hovering above her, gossamer blue wings fluttering to keep her floating above the bed. A true fae, she was no fae-cursed creature of the night.

Anya felt the fog rolling around her mind once more. Surely she'd been spelled if she was not alarmed at the proximity of the fae; for there were stories of the fae capturing the minds of humans before their hearts were eaten. She let her hand slide down her waist to where her knife and new blade should have been resting on her belt. But there were no weapons, indeed there was no belt.

And instead of her furs she was wearing something of a silky gossamer fabric that felt like water against her skin.

"Where am I?" Anya was glad that her voice betrayed nothing and the fae zipped backwards, moving faster than a hummingbird.

"Why, you are exactly where you wanted to be."

"The Beast's lair?" Anya's brows snapped down and the fog cleared. Even without her weapons she was fast. Perhaps she could take the fae that was nervously flitting back and forth before the hearth.

Then the fae laughed. A tinkling sound, like bells, or wind-chimes. "I suppose you could say that."

…**.**

There was something amiss, he knew as soon as he entered the comfortable little farmhouse. Sirisha was smiling at him in a way she assumed was coy. Oh she was charming, in a cunning sort of way, but he barely glanced at her or Nalini, who bobbed a small curtsey at his entrance.

"Fae-hunter, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Nuvian didn't narrow his eyes at their father, who seemed somewhat nervous.

Instead he smiled charmingly, though he had no time for their idle chatter. For his youngest daughter was nowhere to be seen, nor was her mare. "I was just wondering were Anya was, for Larsyn has some new blades that he thought she might be interested in." A lie, of course. But they did not know that.

"Out hunting," Adresyn's answer was hasty. Almost too hasty.

Had she been stolen by the fae and the family did not want to admit it?

Adresyn seemed nervous; his eyes kept darting towards the window and the door. Perhaps she really was out hunting and the man was worried that she would not return by nightfall.

Nuvian, too glanced towards the door. "Should she not be back by now?" Of course he was worried for her, for she was going to be his wife.

Siri snorted, a very unladylike sound. "She's probably tumbling with Elias in a haystack."

Nuvian's vision burned with unnatural clarity then, he bowed shortly to Adresyn and his daughters. "I bid you goodnight, I hope that Anya returns soon."

"Siri, why did you say that!" Adresyn's voice, reprimanding his daughter, drifted to him even as the door closed behind him.

He was going to go have a little chat to Elias.

…**.**

Adamyr glanced up curiously as the door to his study swung open. He was surprise by her attire rather than her appearance – for she'd spurned the lavish clothing he'd had ordered put within her wardrobe. Instead she had opted to wear soft wool breeches and a cotton shirt, for it wasn't cold within his castle, no matter how strong a storm raged beyond its walls. For there were glittering runes on every window and door to ward off the cold.

He almost growled at Vasaanta who hovered a few steps behind the human, almost protective. It seemed that the little shit had won over his servant within the span of a day. The humans eyes were wary as she approached him, every move calculated.

He let his gaze sweep her small frame – fine-boned, but he'd felt the lithe muscles beneath the silk exterior.

Her face was one that definitely caught the eye, it gave host to features that were almost fae: small and heart-shaped with high cheekbones and a straight nose with a slightly uptilted tip. Her skin was creamy white in the fading light with rosy cheeks. Her brows were like two perfect brushstrokes above her eyes, a shade or two darker than her auburn locks that she'd pulled back tightly into a braid that fell to her waist. But her most beautiful feature was easily her eyes. Wide and slanted they were framed by thick black feathery lashes. They shone with a bright fire; the warmest cocoa, a dark mahogany. So dark and deep. And so finitely _human_.

He opened his mouth to greet her – Vasaanta had told him to be polite, but the human spoke first.

"So you're the Beast who laid claim to my father's life," her voice was not musical, like a fae's, but it was a rich, true sound. Full of life and fire. Just like those cocoa eyes that burnt into him.

So she was the merchant-farmers offspring. "That I am, human." With some satisfaction he grinned, revealing to her the sharp canine teeth that could easily pierce her flesh. But she did not even blink. "Have you come to offer yourself in his place?"

A willing sacrifice, it made for the most powerful kind of magik.

"I came here for your life, Beast," she told him, and stood taller as he approached, though he easily towered over her slight frame by a foot and a half. She did not flinch as he let out a low growl. "But as it is, it seems I owe you a life debt. Once it is paid, I will not hesitate to run my blade through you."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He'd not seen such fire in a human for a long time. "I was going to kill your father, little human. Are you going to die in his place?"

"You wouldn't kill him, otherwise you would have done it already," she lifted her chin up. Defiant. "So I am offering myself as your prisoner."

"You won't leave?"

She levelled her gaze at him, as cunning as any fae of his former Court. "I am Lavanya and I do so promise to stay within this castle until its master bids me leave." He could feel the power in her words, as the castle grasped it and made it a vow. Her own words sealed her, and by the look in her cocoa eyes she knew what she'd done. "Anyway, you would just send your werewolves after me if I did leave."

He is shocked that she guessed his position as the king of the fae, especially when he'd not held Court for nearly a century. "My dear, you are now queen of this castle, I am simply your servant."

She snorted and he had to admire her courage, standing up to the beast of the castle. The King of the Fae.

"You may wander wherever you want, human. For my secrets guard themselves."

"What of my blade?"

He laughed. He did not trust her word not to kill him anymore than she trusted his.

*****Read and review my lovelies : ) xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_**200-190 years ago**_

_Though Prince Adamyr had not yet seen a decade past, he knew exactly who he was and who he was going to be. He was going to be the greatest ruler that the fae had ever seen. He looked up at his mother, Queen Haviira of the Fae, with her sparkling turquoise wings adorned with jewels and gold, she was every bit as regal as he hope to be. She was tending to the beautiful winter roses that flourished in their garden, as the sun shone down upon them. The birds twittered away merrily. _

"_These will line the halls on your wedding day, my child," she said softly, her amber eyes softening. It was strange to see her out of her golden armour, mounted atop one of their white mares. But she was beautiful no matter where she was; though she looked softer in that moment, surrounded by roses and birdsong. "Your queen must be beautiful, my child. Inside and out." _

_Adamyr nodded seriously, as if he understood the gravity of what she was saying. Of course he knew about beauty, all fae did. Not like the humans…_

"_The humans are not to be scoffed at, my child," his mother said, reading his thoughts as easily as if he spoke the words aloud. "They burn far brighter than we fae do. They are light and love and laughter."_

"_But they fear us, mother," he frowned, his lips pouting. "They fear everything."_

"_They fear death, my sweet. For they do not live as long as us. And that's why their lives burn so much brighter; for they haven't as much time."_

_He knew he shouldn't have thought them weak for that, it was not what his mother had taught him. But…the war…were they not trying to get rid of the humans that spread across the land like a plague?_

_Queen Haviira laughed and pulled her son onto her lap, ruffling his golden hair. "My sweet, we are not fighting to kill the humans. We are fighting so that we might be able to live in peace. You must remember this." _

…**.**

It had been a week since Anya left on her quest; and though they had nothing to sell, they went to the market anyway.

Siri looked stunning on Nuvian's arm, the pair of the mad a fine couple, for Siri was resplendent in one of her knew gowns. She would have fit in perfectly with the women of Court, elegant and refined; but their father would not allow them to return to the city lest Anya return.

Lina sighed and turned away from the bustling marketplace, heading towards the tavern instead where she was sure her father would be. She hadn't wanted to go to the market, but she wasn't allowed to stay at the farmhouse, so close to the forest.

The tavern was unusually warm as she took a seat at the bar, in the corner where she hoped none would notice her.

On impulse she brushed the necklace her mother had given her – a match to the ones her sisters had – she knew its every facet, every beautiful emerald side etched with the strange runes, nestled between her breasts.

A flash seared through her mind. A drop of blood. White, white roses. A knife. A cry.

She gasped, clutching her head with a groan. She wanted them to go away, the dreams…the visions. She didn't want to wander if they were real or not. If they were the past or the future. She didn't want to see people dying. She didn't want to keep seeing poor Anya's lifeless eyes.

There was a sudden warmth at her side and she looked across to see Anya's friend, Elias, sit beside her.

"Are you ok, Lina?" His voice was pleasant, she realised. But she didn't answer right away; she didn't know if he'd be able to tell if she was lying or not.

But just as she was about to answer the door opened and she looked up into the stormy pits of Nuvian's eyes. Unbidden a shudder ran through her; _he knows something._

She could tell by the way his eyes raked over her. Probing, as if trying to see into her mind.

"Lina?" Elias's voice was concerned and she turned her attention back to him.

But not before she glimpsed the glare that Siri flashed her way, for taking Nuvian's attention away from _her_.

"Could we go for a walk somewhere? I think I just need some fresh air to clear my head." She didn't want to be in the same room as Nuvian and his dark eyes; she didn't want to be at the receiving end of Siri's glares. She turned to him fully, letting her eyes go a little bit wider and letting her lip tremble slightly. The very picture of innocence; for she and Siri used to practice such expressions in the mirror to use them on the men at Court. But in that moment she just needed to get away.

He must have known something was wrong, for they'd never spent any time in each other's company before, but he nodded with a kind smile. Perhaps he shared Anya's distrust of Nuvian, for he kept his own body between her and where the fae-hunter sat with her sister.

And then she was out the door, the brisk air hitting her face only a moment before the snowflake did.

The first snow of winter.

Even as she and Elias moved away from the tavern and its windows, down the street and out of sight, she could still imagine Nuvian's eyes on her. Burning holes into her back. And all at once she wished she wore those hard leather vests that Anya was so fond of, instead of such a flimsy, pretty dress and a shawl.

But then as Elias started to talk about the forests and his little sister, she forgot about her dreams for a moment.

Though she couldn't quite banish the image of Anya's lifeless eyes, and the snowflakes that fell onto her deathly pale skin.

…**.**

Anya glared at the door; she refused to look at Vasaanta who was almost _laughing_. He'd asked for her company once again for dinner that night. No, he'd not asked. He'd demanded, like the beast he so truly was. She knew it was rude to refuse, of course she did, she'd been raised at Court to be a lady and make a fine marriage. But she would not bow to the whims of _him_. For he would have killed her father. Maybe.

How did the fae function with a king such as he?

So she turned her glare to Vasaanta, though the fae had been nothing but kind to her. "I'm going for a walk."

Shock slid into place of the fae's pretty face. Those sapphire eyes blinked. Then blinked again. "You _can't_ leave. You _vowed_. Who knows what would happen if you pass through the gates without Adamyr's permission."

Anya rolled her eyes, opening the door with a grin. "He said I was allowed to roam at will. So that's what I'm going to do."

And then she slipped into the hall before the fae could stop her.

She wandered through the vast marble corridors, where the torches flickered softly as she past. She saw the fae flittering in the corner of her vision, but none approached. She wondered how they would react if she approached them.

For they certainly didn't act how they were meant to, not at all like the fae-cursed creatures that roamed the woods. She knew she would never put Vasaanta in the same category as them, for there didn't seem to be an evil bone in her body.

Perhaps those in the castle were the 'civilised' fae.

She passed beautiful golden statues of regal fae, their wings like sails behind them. She passed closed doors that looked like the doors to her own chambers. She passed doors with thousands of runes etched into their surfaces. _My secrets guards themselves._ A shiver passed through her body and she didn't even contemplate opening those doors. At least not without her blades to protect her from what could be on the other side.

It was a set of double oak doors that she stopped before, the etchings highlighted by lovely gold enamel. It seemed as if it were _calling_ for her. And with the barest of touches it opened, swinging inwards.

Her breath left her in a rush.

She stared in wonder at the room, circular and beautiful; it had shelves upon shelves of books. So high that it reached the ceiling. She fingered the ruby at her throat, glancing behind her, as if the Beast were going to jump out at any moment and tell her that the room was forbidden.

But when nothing happened she grinned and almost skipped to the first row of books she came upon.

She paused once more. Surely in the vast library there would be some kind of index about the fae. For she couldn't deny that she was curious about the Beast, about what kind of fae-cursed creature he was, for he didn't look like any kind of true fae. Not with the scars across his face, or the horns, or the talons. Lest of all the golden wings that swept behind him like a cloak, though she'd not yet seen them open in flight, she did not imagine that they were the beautiful iridescent wings of a true fae.

Perhaps all fae royalty were as strange as he? Was it something that set them apart from the rest?

She'd never heard anything of his ilk before, surely Nuvian had never encountered anything like him before. Otherwise the fae-hunter would have boasted about it.

…**.**

Siri tapped on the door lightly, letting her hood fall to her shoulders, even as the snow fell in the street beyond the cover of the small doorway. She knew the rogue she'd applied to her lips at Elias's house was still there, she'd checked in in the blacksmith's window as she'd passed.

The door opened.

"Siri, it's almost nightfall, what are you doing here?" Nuvian's voice was almost sharp, but Siri dismissed it with a smile.

A stunning smile that had sent so many hearts aflutter in the city. But then she let her face fall, a perfect artwork of distress. "I'm…I'm afraid for Anya."

And with that Nuvian let her into his house, where he lived all alone. One the other side of town to Elias's, where her father and sister were preparing dinner for them in thanks for their hospitality.

"What is the matter, Siri?" his voice was so sweet, like that of an angel. Like his face. She let herself admiring him for a moment, pretending to be gathering her thoughts. His starlight hair was a mess, as if he'd not combed it that morning, and her fingers were itching to run through it.

She let a sob escape her, small tremors wracking her body. And not even an instant passed before his arms were around her. Soothing. Comforting. "I fear that Anya's been taken by the fae," she let her voice waver slightly, as if trying to hold back more tears. "For she made herself such a target by going into the forest alone so often, and dressed so provocatively!"

"There, there," his voice was a caress. "I'm sure she'll be ok. Even that oaf Elias thinks she'll be ok."

Siri let out a watery laugh and looked up at him. His beautiful face was so close, she could feel his breath on her face. She knew her eyes didn't go red when she cried, nor did her face go blotchy. If anything, unshed tears made her eyes look an even more stunning blue, it made her lashes look thicker.

She parted her lips slightly, knowing how tempting they looked when she did that.

But still he didn't kiss her.

No, he was far too chivalrous for that.

She let another whimper escape her.

"Sirisha, you must go home, night was fall soon," he said softly, urgently. Didn't he realise that the last think she wanted was to go back to Elias's hovel? Why would she when it was so warm with him on that lounge? That _he_ was so warm? The wind howled outside.

They both looked out the window in the same instance. To see the darkness of night beyond.

"I guess I'll just have to stay here," her smile was soft as she looked up at him through the teardrops that had coalesced on her lashes. Then, throwing propriety out the window she brought his lips to hers.

There was but a moment's hesitation before a soft sound left him and he was kissing her back, his hand tangled in her thick, auburn hair.

…**.**

Adamyr growled at the vampyre before him. What did they think he could do? He couldn't wage war on the humans, not after his mother had strived so hard for peace with them. A cause first his father, than she had given their lives for.

And the snowy-haired vampyre had appeared at his door, demanding. What exactly, he wasn't quite sure. He wasn't sure if the vampyre knew himself.

But he would not abide by the arrogant tone, demanding things of his own king. And so he growled.

"Your Majesty, the humans are _hunting_ us," the vampyre snapped. "They degrade us, making us little more than animals!"

"Then perhaps you should act less like one!" Adamyr snarled, he could not help it. Even _before _he'd never had much of a leash on his temper. And the vampyre was making him want to run him through himself with the humans pretty little spelled rune-sword.

"Like you can talk! You shirk your duty as king, just as you have for the past two hundred years!"

Adamyr snarled, leaping from his seat and stalking forward, his talons extended. He wanted the pretty vampyres _blood_. He would feast on his blood like he let his Cursed feed on humans.

And then the door swung open.

Adamyr shifted, facing the new threat.

But it was the human. Lavanya.

She had rushed in, her eyes laughing. And clutched in her hand was an old leather book, one that was slightly familiar. He saw the moment that he noticed the hostility; she reacted perhaps as fast as a fae might have done. Faster even. She shifted, those exquisite eyes narrowing at the vampyre whose fangs hand elongated more than was normal, sinking into a crouch. And then he remembered exactly what she was – what the vampyre had been complaining about. A hunter.

A fae hunter.

Then the vampyre turned on him, eyes wide with shock. "You're protecting one of _them_? A human!" The vampyre was outraged and Adamyr could see in his mind perfectly in that moment. The fae king who spurned everyone had taken a human as a lover. He did not truly believe that the human female could pose any threat, despite the practice she executed in her stance.

A stance of perfectly balanced speed and balance.

A plan appeared before Adamyr's mind's eye. And he straightened, his talons receding slightly. "Oxiron," she said softly, with all the grace and charm that he'd learnt from his mother. Skills he'd not employed for longer than he cared to remember. "Lavanya is here as an emissary for the humans. We are to re-establish that peace that my dear mother, the Queen, fought so hard to achieve."

The vampyre paused. But it wasn't the fae that Adamyr was watching, it was the human. Her whole demeanour shifted as she straightened, no longer something wild, she looked every inch a lady despite the breeches she wore. And then she arched a single brow in his direction. Puzzling. _What are you talking about?_

Her thoughts reached him as easily as if she were one of the fae. Perhaps because she truly wanted to ask the question of him.

"You are to open Court once more? Truly?" Oxiron's voice was incredulous. And Adamyr could easily understand why. He'd not held a session of Court for perhaps a full century…maybe even longer.

"Aye. Spread the word."

And with that he was gone, edging as far from the human as he could before going out the door. Lavanya stepped forward, letting the door close behind her. The book, and her early happiness was subsequently gone and she opened her mouth, but Adamyr shook his head. It wasn't until he'd heard the footsteps retreat entirely that he faced her.

"I've thought of a way for you to repay the debt that you owe me."

*****Read and review my lovelies : ) xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**200 years ago**_

_Queen Haviira looked down at her husband's body, a tear escaping her eye. He was eternally beautiful, and he would always be in her heart. Though his body would turn to silver dust and scatter on the winds when the full moon shone upon him. _

_The human had not meant to kill him, she knew that, the poor creature had thought the Fae King on of the Cursed. One of the rogue fae that preyed upon the humans as if it were a sport. Vampyres were the worst of them…_

_She shook her head. There was nothing she could do to fix it. Her husband was gone and no wishing would bring him back. _

_She looked across the her advisor, whose ancient blue-topaz eyes were brimming with sadness._

"_This hate will kill us all," she whispered softly. They were the last Fae Kingdom on land, perhaps it was only so because they were so far north, so far from any human settlements._

_But it was not just for her people that she thought. It was for all fae._

"_What will you do?" _

"_I will do everything in my power to protect the fae," she said, turning away from her husband's body and the bed of white roses that it lay upon. "I will make peace with the humans. I will protect my son and raise him into a fine fae king, one that will be able to keep the peace. Will you help me?"_

_The other woman nodded. "I will do everything in my power to make it so." _

_Haviira nodded. It was all she could ask for. She would not let the fae die. She would do anything to stop it. _

…**.**

Anya pulled the duvet over her legs, though it wasn't cold in her chambers. No, it never was. It was more a comfort thing; for the only memory she had of her mother was being tucked into bed. The view from the window seat was beautiful, she could see an expanse of the sprawling snow-covered gardens and the castle gate. She knew there were guards out there, she just couldn't see them. Perhaps they had hair as white as the snow that surrounded them, with skin as pale as ice.

But it wasn't the lovely view that held her attention; it was the old book she'd found in the library that so enraptured her. it had been exactly what she was looking for, an index of all the different fae. Various beasts and fae-cursed creatures. All well as true fae, and those that were called the Cursed. She laughed at the comments scribbled in the margins in an elegant, cursive hand; comments about the weaknesses of the creatures.

_True fae are drawn to the extremely dull colours of humans, the browns and greens…such boring insipid creatures._

The narrator almost reminded her of Siri and her snide comments.

But still she'd found nothing like the Beast. Adamyr the Fae King.

With a sigh she paused in her reading.

She would attend to him that night, and they would speak of this 'peace', and she would ask him what he was. But she would not wear one of those gossamer gowns that shimmered under the soft light. Nor would she wear any of the gold or jewels that dripped from the chests in her room. She would wear breeches and her ruby. All she wanted was her sword.

Unbidden the vampyres face flashed before her eyes. A perfect, beautiful face, with long snow-white hair and brilliant violet eyes. It was the vampyres and werewolves that created the Cursed, who had no access to the rune-magik of the true fae. The wild beasts which they were _meant _to control, but didn't. It was the Cursed that preyed on humans, for they had no control, no restraint on their hunger.

Vampyres and werewolves were true fae that had been born. The Cursed were made. If the fae were careless and did not kill the human they preyed on. The human became the fae-cursed.

She slammed the book closed, a snarl erupted from her lips violently. Then she paused, wide-eyed, shocked at the inhuman sound. She gripped her ruby necklace for comfort.

Then the door opened and Vasaanta entered, all wisps of pretty diaphanous fabric and fluttering, glittering wings. "Are you ok?" the fae's voice was nervous almost. As if she could sense that something was off.

But Anya just nodded with an absent smile. The pretty fae wouldn't understand, though she'd only recently joined the Beasts household.

She'd joined him for protection; after her family had been murdered by a vicious fae-hunter who had torn off their wings. Then left them to bleed to death beneath the trees that had always offered them protection.

Anya shuddered involuntarily. Not even a rabid werewolf deserved such cruelty.

"You're doing a good thing you know," Vasaanta said softly, sapphire eyes meeting cocoa. "Fae without a Court is a terrible thing. But a Court without peace with the humans is even worse. Many lives have been lost needlessly."

…**.**

Adresyn stared out the window of Elias's house. He'd been attempting to wash the dishes. To do something to help in order to repay the young man for allowing them to stay with him and his little sister. But his hands could barely grasp the porcelain plates, his eyes watching the snowflakes fall in the street.

He watched as couples laughed, pulling each other from doorway to doorway.

He hoped fervently that none of them were Siri and Nuvian.

He shuddered. Involuntarily. He couldn't deny Siri her happiness, but Anya had always been so mistrustful of the fae-hunter. His beautiful, precious Anya.

A cry escaped his lips.

It seemed as everything had snowballed into despair. For even Lina was faring ill, she was losing weight, he was not blind to that. And there were dark rings under her emerald eyes from sleepless nights. She spent precious little time at Siri's side, though the two of them had always been so close. They'd both gossiped about males and pretty dresses.

He remembered his wide. His beautiful, beautiful wife who had been torn so suddenly from him. He had thought her strange when she'd insisted that the girls be taught to fence, even at a young age, despite how unladylike it was. But he couldn't be more grateful that Anya had never quite as her sisters had, when males started paying them attention. For at least she had some change of defeating the Beast.

Adresyn looked down at the dishes, at the murky water and chipped porcelain plates. At his shaking, shaking hands.

The plate slipped from his hand as soon as he picked it up. It clattered across the bench top before it slid to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces on the hard floor.

A single drop of blood splattered against the earthenware.

…**.**

Adamyr stabbed at the fruit with one of his talons, the pretty silver piercing the succulent pink flesh as if it were an enemy. He scowled at it, watching the juice slide down before his tongue darted out to lick it up.

He was still staring at the pretty pink segment when the door to the small solar swung open. The fire flickered slightly as the brisk air entered. The fae king turned, prepared to berate the intruder when he stopped.

And stared.

He hadn't been expecting the human to join him, despite his demands for her to do so. She'd been infuriatingly stubborn thus far. And so seeing her at the entrance to his solar, dressed in those crimson velvet breeches and cotton shirt, he stared and stood hastily.

And then he could see that the human was laughing at her with those warm eyes. He glared at Vasaanta, who hovered a scant two paces behind her. Her sapphire eyes were twinkling, a dainty hand smothering, no doubt, a giggle. The fae in question led the delicate human to the seat that had been reserved for her. No, he amended that thought, she was not delicate. She was a ball of fire and steel.

In silence they ate, but he could feel her glancing up at him infrequently, and he was almost embarrassed that his talons prevented him from eating with those delicate pieces of cutlery that she used. _Almost_ embarrassed. For they were so very useful for skewering things.

…**.**

Anya watched him carefully as their plates were taken away. Then his amber eyes, or were they gold, met hers with amusement.

He was laughing at her.

The insufferable _Beast_.

"Why do you want peace with us humans?" her question was straight forward, for she saw no reason to dance around it. If he wanted her help she needed to understand what it was she was doing. She wasn't trying to get out of it.

He took a calming breath, at least she assumed that was what it was. "Two hundred years ago, my mother established an uneasy peace with the humans," his voice was low, lower than any human she'd heard, and had a slight rumble to it. As if it were warning of an oncoming avalanche. His molten gold eyes were watching her, those pretty wide orbs set beneath dark brows that were almost human. He could have looked like a normal fae, she decided, if he did not have the scars. Across the left side of his face and through his eyebrow, a single scar on those full lips that pulled back to reveal sharp _fangs_. His lower jaw was covered by a neatly trimmed beard, was he conscious of his looks? He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. His silver talons clicking. "She sacrificed herself so that the fae forests would be protected, so we could not be killed beneath the bowers of the trees." She nodded, for she knew as well as any that blood magik bound. His golden eyes were sad for a moment. "She gave her life for the protection; for blood magik, given in altruistic sacrifice, is the most powerful of any magik. She knew that the humans would turn; it's against your fragile natures to revel in peace. There is always one who is discontent and then they turn the rest. And they did. The first fae was murdered at the humans Court not ten years after the peace began. And so we fae retreated from the world, into our forests and into our palaces. Where we held Court for only the fae and the Cursed."

Anya frowned as he paused in his tale. "What happened to your own Court for is to be disbanded as it has? For surely it couldn't have been humans."

"Perhaps it was," his voice was vague, tire. "I must beg your leave, Lavanya. I grow weary and must retired for the night."

Anya nodded, her thoughts racing. But it wasn't until the door closed behind him that she started. Her eyes narrowed. For fae felt most alive with the coming of the moon, she knew that from the book. And she'd been left with more questions than she'd started with.

For how could Nuvian kill fae within the forest if they were protected thus?

For surely the beast had not lied, she'd seen the pain in his eyes when he'd spoken of his mother's sacrifice.

_What had happened to his Court?_

*****Read and review my lovelies : ) Pleeeeeeeeease tell me what you think now that the plot is thickening, as well as getting some history ^.^**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**110-100 years ago**_

_She was beautiful in the sunshine where she lay, her starlight curls surrounding her like a halo. Thick lashes that surrounded her stunning wide eyes cast shadows across her high cheekbones as she gazed up at the cloud-less sky. Her full lips were curled upwards in a content smile as she played with the delicate glass rose he'd given her._

_One of his mothers, which she had created with her magik. She'd been fond of beautiful things. _

_Adamyr smiled down at the beautiful fae as she propped herself up on one elbow. _

"_We will marry soon," he said softly, reaching out to caress her face, brushing away an errant curl. "Nothing will stop us."_

_For there were leagues of enchanted forests between his castle and the humans, they would be free to do what they wished. She would be his Queen, one that his mother would have been proud of. A beautiful fae Queen that the world would envy, for she was surely the most beautiful creature to walk the earth. _

_She laughed, his beautiful Sunyata, a tinkling sound. _

"_The fae who stayed in the human cities are foolish," he laughed with her. For there truly was none more beautiful than she. "For they will never lay eyes upon you. They will never covet you. For they will stay with those foolish humans that must live with their wasteful ways and vengeful spirits."_

"_Yes," Sunyata smiled. "While we dwell here with all the riches and jewels we will ever need." _

…**.**

Siri tilted her head to the side, looking into the single mirror that Elias owned. A gift to his little sister, he'd said. She scoffed. The mirror was barely enough to show her her face; she'd no inkling of what use the plain little chit would have for it. She dragged her teeth along her lips, bringing more colour into the plump rosebuds of flesh. With any luck she'd see Nuvian after he returned from hunting in the forest. For the village stores of meat were running low and there was no Anya to sell her wares.

Siri was careful not to scowl at the thought of her little sister, for she didn't want any lines to mar her face. And so she lined her eyes with charcoal; if possible they seemed an even brighter blue. Almost fae-blue, though none would ever say it aloud.

"Will you join me for a stroll, Lina?" she asked, keeping her voice oh so pleasant.

"No thank you."

_Of course not_. "And that's a good thing," Siri almost laughed as a thought entered her mind. "Or perhaps not. For I'd look even better when compared to you. You look truly dreadful, you know." She knew that Lina hadn't been sleeping properly; she tossed about at night on the thin sleep pallet, her mind torn by fae-cursed true-dreams. "Almost ill. Like some fae-cursed creature raised from the dead."

She half-expected her sister to laugh. She would have before Anya left.

That brat had ruined everything.

But at least she had Nuvian to herself.

…**.**

Anya had been wandering the castle again, but she hadn't expected to come across a room so…morbid. So bleak and empty, save for a mirror and a chair.

There was a single painting adorning the wall, with great slashes through the canvas. With trembling hands Anya touched it, joining the torn pieces together once more. Talons had raked through the artwork, silver talons if she was to guess.

The face in the painting was one of heavenly beauty, far too stunning to even be considered human in its perfection. Her face was small, perfectly symmetrical, with a delicate pointed chin and high cheekbones. Her tip-tilted eyes were wide, the colour of the summer sky that the artist captured perfectly. Sapphire wings swept behind her like a cape, iridescent, the painting lending them a nice sparkled. And atop her sunlight hair lay a wreath of white winter roses.

She was smiling as if she were the happiest person in the world. Though there was something off about those beautiful eyes, they were somehow flat. Missing something. As if the beauty outside was not reflected within.

Anya shook her head and backed out of the room, turning so swiftly she almost ran into the figure that had been leaning against the wall beside the room.

It was a fae; there was no doubt about that, her bone-white hair falling in a shimmering curtain down her back. The fae grinned, her full lips curling to reveal the wickedly sharp canine teeth that marked her as a vampyre.

Anya stepped back automatically, her feet shifting to balance her in case the vampyre lunged at her. But she didn't, she laughed.

"Don't fret, pretty human," her voice was like music, like all fae. "Now that our King has opened Court, none may be harmed by another whilst under his roof." Then her amethyst eyes shifted, moving to the doorway that she'd just exited. "I'd be careful if I were you, little human. Otherwise you might end up how she did."

_The fae in the torn painting? _"Oh, and what's that?" Anya lifted her chin.

"Dead as a doorknob, her heart torn from her chest and eaten."

…**.**

Adamyr paced in his solar, ignoring the two trays of food that were slowly going cold on the table. She was late.

He glanced to the door once more, only half-heartedly expected her to enter with that cocksure grin and laughing cocoa eyes.

He had planned to speak with her properly about the proposed treaty that night. The one she would help him present to his Court. For he would need her to go to the humans, for with their new wealth her family would surely have some influence. Briefly the argument with Oxiron flashed through his mind. That more and more of the fae were being killed within the forests by rune-wielding hunters. With deadly blades like the one he'd found in Anya's possession. One he knew had not yet spilled blood.

Trust the humans to take the pure nature of runes and twist it into something evil. Something so foul that even the fae could not use the twisted, crude runes that the humans employed.

He froze as the door clicked open, smoothing out the front of his vest.

But when he turned it wasn't Anya who greeted him.

Instead of cocoa, it was amethyst eyes that met his. Her full lips curling into a cruel parody of a smile. The one thing he'd not missed about an active Court was the visitors.

"Expecting someone else?"

He would have given anything to wipe the smug smirk off the vampyres face. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had created some of the Cursed out of amusement or boredom. It was something she would do, purely to entertain herself, to watch the humans flee from a blood-thirsty Cursed that had no control over itself.

It was partially his fault, he knew that. For he'd not been acting as a King should, he did not punish those that took no accountability for their actions.

_It would change._

"I hear we're making peace with the humans," she leaned her hip against the table, taking a piece of fruit from the plate meant for Anya. He narrowed his gaze at her, as if the golden orbs could burn holes in her sunlight-sensitive skin. For he knew as well as she that she could not even taste the fruit, nothing but blood could sustain her form. "Such a droll idea, if you ask me."

She laughed and the lovely sound that was so enchanting to humans grated against his ears.

"I wasn't asking you, Tyllaetha. What are you doing here?"

"I came to offer you a warning, _Your Majesty_. There's going to be a lot of complaints about you now that we're allowed back in. The problems didn't stop just because you didn't listen to them."

…**.**

Anya was dreaming. She knew she was. She had to be. For she was standing in that room once more and couldn't fathom how she got there.

It had changed; for the painting wasn't torn and the window was opened. The diaphanous plum drapes were fluttering in the wind, sunlight was streaming through and there was not a cloud in the sky.

The chair was occupied. There was a man sitting in it, staring at the painting.

She edged around carefully, not making a sound so she could glimpse his face. And when she did, her breath caught in her throat. For despite his pained expression he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. The kind of beauty that was spoken of only in folklore; as pretty as one of the fae. But there were no wings, and his teeth were as straight as her own.

His hair fell to his shoulders in gentle waves, a beautiful mix between golden and brown. Almost caramel, perfectly framing his tanned face. His jaw was strong, his lips full and sensual; the kind of lips that Siri would have sighed over. Just as she would have swooned over his physique.

And then he turned those wide, amber eyes to her and her breath left her in a rush.

All at one she felt clumsy.

"Who are you?" her voice was soft, for if she spoke too loud she could shatter the fragility of the man before her. His eyes were like liquid amber, capturing her gaze as if _he_ were a hunter.

"I am no one," his voice was a baritone. Too masculine, too deep. Too perfect. An incubus perhaps? "I was someone once. I don't remember. Who are you? The Queen of this castle?"

She almost laughed. "So I've been told. My name is Lavanya."

"A beautiful name for such a beautiful fae. Tell me, are you a siren come to steal my heart?"

She didn't correct him; for though it was surely a dream it felt as if it were dangerous to reveal she was human. But though he was watching her curiously, he did not move from the plush, violet divan.

"I can't leave this place, locked away like a prisoner. But I don't know why," he sounded sad, so sad. And when he stood it was like he were a sleepwalker, locked in a dreams embrace.

"Are you now stuck in the castle with me?"

She froze. He was stuck in the castle? Had the Beast locked him away somewhere and she was picking up on his distress through his dreams?

"Look into the mirror, and tell me what you see. For I do not see myself when I look."

She was definitely dreaming, by the way his voice caressed her as if she were a lily-livered maid. But despite it, she approached the mirror. And froze. The woman who looked back at her was easily as beautiful as any of the fae, a perfect match for the man behind her. She looked like herself. But not fully. Her hair, done in a seriously of intricately looped plaits looked like copper, a beautiful auburn that shone with its own light. Her lips looked softer, more inviting. Her lashes thicker, her eyes wider, more soulful. She looked like a fae princess in a gown of fire and a wreath of white roses.

The ruby at the base of her throat pulsed with a light of its own, the runes shimmering like fire. So hot it seemed to burn.

The man's lips were a soft caress on her shoulder, the briefest of sparks sending lightning through her body.

Anya wrenched herself backwards and then she was staring at the dark canopy of her bed as the first rays of mornings light shone through the window.

She pressed a hand to her beating heart in an attempt to calm herself. But the ruby necklace was still burning against her.

A warning.

Who was the man and why was he being kept prisoner?

What other secrets was the Beast hiding?

*****Read and review my lovelies : ) please tell me what you think of my characters ^.^**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **

**To linkyway: thank you for your review ^.^ haha I tried to incorporate both, putting my own spin on it : ) I hope it's starting to move faster for you eeeeeeeeeeeee xxx**

**To Raelin: Noooooooo, don't stop your reviews, they make my day : ) I love love love reviews (hint, hint everyone) hehe but as for the question about the names, most are base off Sanskrit words, others are plucked from the insanity of my mind O.o **

**But without any further ado, I shall present….CHAPTER 10 : ) A long one for y'all : )**

**Chapter 10**

_**110-100 years ago**_

_The prince was laughing, urging the white mare faster as the rainclouds began to roll in. His stupid servants hadn't warned him of any oncoming rain; they would be chastised when he returned to the castle. It would be different when he was King, _they _would think to warn him. And it would not long until that was so. As per fae law, he had waited half a century before being crowned king. _

_And a week after being crowned king, he would crown his queen._

_His beautiful Sunyata, who awaited his presence in the castle, perhaps clothed in nothing but her golden hair and the soft crimson silk of his bed-sheets. The most beautiful fae in all the land. More beautiful than Trystane's Esyllt. _

_Adamyr laughed once more; and perhaps he looked happy to any who were watching him. _

_But it was a strange joy that coursed through him; it wasn't contentment, it wasn't happiness. It was a feeling that everything was as it should be. For the humans could be ignored, even though there were no other fae Courts standing. It didn't matter to him for they were far away from everything. He was soon to be king; his birth-right was to be claimed. And then he would claim his wife, for she was the only one good enough for him. The only one beautiful enough for him. For a king._

_He dismounted before he reached the lovely gardens that sprawled around his stunning marble castle, his iridescent gold wings like unfurling sales behind him as they were released from the confines of his riding cape. He didn't greet the little fae who scuttled off like a critter with the mare, he barely cast her a glance. She was beneath _his _notice. _

_But he could not enter his beloved castle to find Sunyata. No, for upon the sweeping steps, before the great oak doors, stood a withered, stooped _creature_. _

_Dressed in nothing but rags, the human's old eyes were glancing up at the storm clouds that loomed above._

"_Out of my way, woman," his voice was a snarl, more beast than fae. But it was no more than the thing before him deserved. He could see every gaping pore on the creature's face, every flaw that exuded a disgusting mortality. The human stunk of death and illness. He saw none of the fire that his mother had sometimes admired. _

"_Please," even its voice was cracked, it grated against his eardrums. Whoever had once claimed mortals beautiful must had suffered from maddening true-dreams. "All I seek is shelter, Your Majesty. Please, I will offer even my most precious possession."_

_In her hands she held a stunning glass rose. In her frail, _withered _hands. Disgusted, he turned his face from her. he could not have such a creature within his halls, befouling the beautiful halls with its wretched breath._

"_Leave, human."_

_But still, she didn't. Those old eyes looked up at him, a strange colour he'd not seen before, an almost topaz blue. But not quite, for within the face of the old ragged human the colour lost all beauty. He scoffed at the fae who said humans had the most beautiful eyes. _

"_My old ears tell me that you are to be married, your Majesty. Will you tell me of her?"_

_Perhaps it would make her go away… "She has hair of the truest spun gold, with skin like alabaster. She is the most beautiful fae to ever live, for her eyes are the colour of the deepest sapphire. Her lips like the softest rose petals."_

"_What of her heart, my prince? What of her loyalty, her kindness?" _

"_What of it? Such things do not matter; it is her beauty that captivates all. She will be a lovely jewel to adorn my crown." _

_The old crone blinked at him. "But what of the way she treats the servants?"_

"_What do they matter? They are nothing more than ants beneath my feet."_

_And it was as if the sky split open. Lightening cracked about him. Thunder roared._

_And he was forced to his knees; a searing pain wracked his body._

_It began in his head, as if something were trying to force its way through his skull. It seared down his back, a fiery burn that threatened to turn his wings to ash. It spread to his fingers, it spread to his feet. _

_Tearing cloth. Searing pain. _

"_You are nothing more than a beast, Prince Adamyr, and so a beast is what all shall see. Your kingdom will wither, the sun shall never shine," it was the old woman, he knew that. But her voice had changed, it was stronger. And yet softer. Like a winter storm. Like the furious flurries of _something_ that tore within him. He could feel them, strange runes, _powerful _runes. Ancient runes. For change, for curse. A sound escaped him. _

_A snarl._

"_You are not worthy to be King, _child_. Until you learn, until you earn a love that eclipses all others. Nothing but true love will save you, Adamyr. I hope that there is some beauty left within you for someone to see." _

_He glimpsed up through tear-blurred eyes to see the glimpse of a long sapphire gown and eyes the colour of blue topaz. And great, sweeping silver wings. _

_With a cry Adamyr staggered through the castle halls, ignoring the gasps and the cries of horror. There was only one person he needed to see._

_She was there, as he thought she'd be. Her golden hair tumbling over perfect alabaster shoulders. But those lovely summer-blue eyes widened with horror as he stumbled into his chambers, wild growls tearing from his throat. _

_She screamed. A horrible sound that turned Adamyr's blood to ice. _

"_Sunyata." His voice was not his own; it was deeper, more like a growl. "Please."_

"_Get away from me! Don't come any closer, monster!" _

_And so he turned, blind to where he was going._

_Or perhaps not so much, for he found himself in their room. The one that overlooked the gardens, where they would curl together on the plush violet divan. Only a single mirror and a single portrait adorned the room. _

_A portrait of Sunyata._

_But the sun did not shine through the diaphanous curtains. No, for the sky was swirling beyond. Dark and furious. It echoed the darkness within. _

_And so Adamyr went to the mirror. To see what the fae-witch had cursed him to._

_And he understood why the beauty had screamed. Why the servants had scurried away._

_For his face was not his own, the shape was the same, but a vicious scar ran across it, chipped through one of his dark brows. His lips were scarred, as if someone had taken a whip to his face; two great fangs curved downwards, so much more pronounced than a vampyres. He ran a hand across his once-defined jaw, snarling at the unfamiliar beard. Even his hair was not his own, it was darker, wilder. _

_And then he froze, staring at his hands. At the razor-like talons that matched the silver of the horns that protruded from his head. That matched the talons that replaced his toes. _

_He snarled, thrusting the mirror away._

_He didn't register the shatter. He didn't care. He didn't want to look at the dull bat-like wings that hung behind him. He didn't want to look at the cursed face. _

_For even Sunyata could not bear the sight of him._

_His beauty was gone._

_Everything he had would follow._

_He started at the portrait. At her beauty. So ethereal, and now so untouchable. _

_With another snarl his talons slashed through the delicate paper. Like a knife tearing through flesh. _

…**.**

Anya awoke to a pounding heart once more, her face warm, her hands shaking. She'd dreamt of him once more. The mysterious prince. She shivered; a useless attempt to rid herself of the feeling of his eyes on her.

She rolled to her side, pulling the duvet tighter around her chin, staring at the gauzy curtains that did little to hide the storm raging beyond the window. She would speak with the Beast that day. She would.

She wouldn't let the vampyre's words haunt her. For surely the Beast had not killed that beautiful woman in the portrait…

_But he was going to kill your father, why would he stop at murdering a woman?_

The traitorous voice inside her whispered. The one that sounded so much like Siri, the one that always questioned why she did not give in to the man in her dreams.

"Because they aren't just dreams," she hissed aloud. Her voice cracking through the silence like a whip. She'd read in the fae index that some powerful fae had the ability to dream-walk; to project their thoughts into the minds of other. Or to walk into another's dream, to share it with them. And that was what the mysterious prince was doing. From somewhere deep within the Beasts castle he was seeking her help.

But despite her questions she'd gleaned nothing from him. Save that he was trapped.

And yet not matter how many hallways she traversed, no matter how many rooms she explored with their enchanted objects and mysteries, she could never find him.

Only in the dreams that they shared.

With a growl that wasn't too dissimilar to what the Beast uttered, Anya thrust the blankets away from her body. She would not dwell on it. For she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Her eyes rested on the brilliant rune-blade that the Beast had returned to her the night before.

Yes, she was in need of its beautiful silver-tipped blade.

…**.**

Adamyr's brows shot up in surprise as he looked at his blade, twenty feet away, lodged in the dirt of the castle's practice courts. The first of the sun's rays shone over the surrounding marble walls as the archers looked down on their little match with curiosity.

Anya smirked, that infuriating little smirk that tilted her lips just so. She gripped the sword with both hands, holding it before her, a glint in her fiery cocoa eyes. The ruby inlaid in the hilt of her silver-tipped sword shone, dappling the ground with crimson light. Her feet were perfectly placed- shoulder width apart and her grip firm. "I didn't just carry this around for show you know," her voice was light and teasing as she swung her sword around in an arc, the well-crafted blade catching the slight morning light.

Adamyr frowned. He had never fought a worthy human before and therefore didn't know their styles. _This could be educational_, he thought. For them both. He knew that soon she would be a target for rogue fae and those who opposed him. For he knew he had many enemies, he hadn't needed Tyllaetha's warning to know he'd been a poor king.

"I'm not just another weak human."

"No, you're just a little weak female," Adamyr almost laughed at the way her mouth popped open at his humour.

But she recovered fast, lunging at him, narrowly missing his arm with the live blade before he swept to the side.

The sun was rising, lighting the courtyard with its bright golden light, gleaming off the perfect marble walls and shining off the hard armour of the fae who watched the match with curiosity.

Adamyr shifted his footing slightly, feeling the hard compacted dirt. His grip on his sword was sure; he could feel the vibrations beneath his finger-tips, the metal humming under his touch. The blade shone brilliant gold in the sunlight. The twin to it was still strapped securely to his back.

He swung the blade in a circle, testing it as Anya watched her warily. He waited for the human to press the attack, his balance perfect on the balls of his feet, ready to move. "I'm not going to go easy on you, little human."

The human laughed, twirling her blade effortlessly. "I wouldn't expect any less of you."

Adamyr attacked in a series of down chopping blows, from which Anya darted back. She was surprisingly light on her feet, and his brow furrowed slightly. Perhaps it had not been wise to give the human back her blade; perhaps she still sought to kill him. The fae swept his sword in a crescent moon and Anya blocked, bringing them body-to-body. She realised her mistake a moment later as Adamyr tried to force her to the ground, using his superior fae strength.

Anya's eyes widened and she broke away, twirling prettily, but eyeing Adamyr with wary respect.

But in that blink Adamyr moved, darting in and catching the human's sword with his own and jerking it out of her hands in the same move she'd used on him as soon as they'd entered the practice yards.

But his was skill, not pure luck.

But he wasn't expecting her to launch herself at his waist. He was too shocked to think of using his blade. Instead he grasped her wrists with a snarl and threw her.

She rolled, crouched.

And growled right back at him.

He wasn't sure what happened next, but his sword lay discarded in the dirt beside hers and she was pinned to the wall, her feet dangling a foot in the air as he held her by her wrists. He blinked down at her, aware of himself again; shocked that the beast within had escaped. _She was so small. He could have killed her._

She was shaking.

_Guilt welled within him._

Adamyr's eyes widened as he looked down into her small heart-shaped face. There was no horror, no fright. No, those dark cocoa eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were flushed. _She was laughing._

She wasn't mocking him. It was peals of true laughter that escaped her as she gasped for breath.

"I told you I wouldn't go easy on you. But you're good for a human, I'm sure you could hold your own against some fae, Anya. Some very _weak _fae." He tried to make light of the situation as he lowered her back onto the ground, just aware of how fragile she seemed. He'd come so close to hurting her; he was sure she recognised that. _But she didn't care. _

And then she was laughing again, showing no surprise at his use of her name. But she just grinned. "We'll just have to hope it doesn't come to that. I'll just have to dazzle them with my beautiful brown eyes."

Then she was laughing, doubled over. Grasping her stomach. An errant curl had escaped from her haphazard braid and caressed her cheek. "That was so much fun," she gasped, struggling to contain her laughter. Her joy. "Elias never fought me like _that_."

…**.**

Nuvian glared across the tavern as some of the village idiots sung a bawdy song about a fae-cursed woman and her _unfortunate_ lover. There was something wrong in the air, he could feel it. It was another _shift_. For the number of fae in the forests were dwindling.

He'd almost had another fae the night past, until the bumbling fool hunter had stumbled into the clearing. The fae had escaped and Elias had been none the wiser that he could have been enchanted.

And so Nuvian glared at Elias, as if it were his fault. And then he glared at Lina, who shared only her auburn locks with her sister.

Not Siri, stupid Siri with her creamy thighs and wanton moans, no it was Anya that filled his thoughts. It was Anya he wanted beneath him every night. And she couldn't be dead, despite what foolish Siri thought. No, surely there was a fae somewhere keeping her prisoner.

He was about to order another drink when he saw it; the tell-tale shimmer of magik. _Fae _magik. With hasty excuses of weariness, he bid those around him goodnight, pulling his cloak about him as he hit the frigid winter air.

He followed the pounding in his mind, the slight blur to his vision until he found himself outside the forge. He braced himself, holding the dagger that Larsyn himself had forged, dipped in silver, just so. And he threw the door open with his shoulder, bracing himself for whatever fae-cursed creature lay on the other side.

But the sight that greeted him was not what he'd been expecting. No, for Larsyn was sitting with the fae-cursed werewolf. The blacksmith was laughing with the vile creature.

Two steaming mugs sat on the table between them. Forgotten as _two_ pairs of glittering eyes turned on him. Emerald green and onyx black.

Time froze, suspending in the air between the two fae and the fae-hunter.

And Nuvian could utter no more than an outraged cry before the dagger left his hand, burying in the thigh of the werewolf with a solid thunk. He wanted nothing more than to bury his sword in the blacksmith's neck. The betrayer; the vile thing had been masquerading in their village for years. Had he been feeding off their souls? Slipping into the women's sleeping chambers at night?

Nuvian could have laughed at the irony as he shifted his rune-blade. A beautiful sword that Larsyn himself had created. But Nuvian had been the one to coat the steel blade with pure silver, it had been him to cast the runes over it, to etch them into the blade.

And it would be by that blade that Larsyn would die.

He leapt at the blacksmith.

But he never made it; for the werewolf dragged him down, its talons fixing around his upper arm even as the silver blade poisoned his blood. Then his blade was on the werewolf's throat and Larsyn stood there, frozen, his swarthy _inhuman_ face shocked.

"Go!" there werewolf snarled and the fae that had been Larsyn slipped through the door and into the night with the rest of his kind.

Nuvian's blade dug a little deeper into the werewolf's neck, a trickle of silver running down its furred collarbone. Nothing could compare to the fury that boiled within him. To know that once again he'd been fooled by a filthy fae. And then suddenly Larsyn's interest in Anya made so much more sense, had it been he who had stolen her away?

Had _it_ bespelled her?

"What are you doing here_, fae_?" Nuvian snarled, hitting the thing's hand away. "Tell me or I will drive silver-tipped bolts into you, one by one."

"Your threats don't scare me, _human_. You would not stand a chance against our King, for the Court stand behind him. He will crush you."

A king?

Silver blood sprayed across his face, a macabre artwork that some would even call beautiful. And with a laugh he thrust the werewolf's body away from him. He could not burn it, for it wouldn't burn. He would have to wait til the next full moon for it to turn to silver dust.

Disgusting.

With the tip of his boot he pushed the body away from him. He would have to store it with the rest.

"So…A fae king…after all this time there's one left…"

One last Fae King. One who had roused his Court together once more. Sharpening his knife, Nuvian grinned. _This is my chance._

…**.**

Anya closed her eyes as the gentle hands wound through her hair. Tugging, braiding, pinning. Vasaanta trying to tame her curls. She was curled up on plush cushions that reminded her of their old house atop the hill. Her mother's solar always had such cushions strewn across the floor, which she and her sisters would sit on to read as the sun sunk beyond the port and into the seas where the myrmaids played.

"You have the most beautiful hair, so vibrant for a human," the fae said softly, cooing.

There would be no meeting with Adamyr that day, for she had promised Vasaanta she would spend the night with her. She had hoped to glean information about the mysterious prince from her dreams, but any thoughts had been dispelled when Vasaanta had arrived with a large platter of her favourite fruits saying that she was going to do her hair.

Anya smiled softly as she felt another pin go in. Perhaps the fae was looping the plaits around in the intricate fae way.

Braids upon braids and loops upon loops.

"Who is Tyllaetha to the King?" Anya asked, curious as she thought of the vampyre and her warning once more. _Dead as a doorknob…_

"Her father was an advisor to his," Vasaanta chuckled. "A cunning thing he was…I suppose that she wishes she were to rule instead of him. She feels as if he's done a poor job."

_Hasn't he? _"Why does he not just wed her? Surely that would quell any grievances that the fae have."

Vasaanta laughed, the normally delicate sound almost a snort. "That would be like writing his own death with in runes; he'd not live past their wedding night. And plus, who would want to wed a beast?"

Anya opened her eyes, frowning. "There is an animal in us all." She thought of Nuvian and his lecherous gaze, she thought of the debt collectors in the city who had cast them out of their home, she thought of the humans who'd broken the first treaty. Even humans could be animals. Beasts. And hide it with a charming exterior. "You don't really believe he's a beast."

Vasaanta's hands paused and she could feel those sparkling sapphire eyes watching her. "Do you?"

Anya opened her mouth to answer, but paused, her eyes narrowing. For through the snow she saw a figure stumble through the castle gates, silver blood trailing behind him, wings tucked tight to his back. "Vasaanta, there's someone out there."

She moved to the window, drawn to the scene, as Vasaanta joined her. They watched as through the snow the stranger struggled up at path, two crimson-clad guards assisting him.

He stumbled slightly, his face glancing upwards.

Anya's heart froze in her chest.

It was Larsyn.

*****Read and review my lovelies : )**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_**25-24 years ago**_

_He saw her for the first time in the markets; he was on his way to greet the captain of the _Beauty _which had just made port. And below her decks lay the cargo that was going to make him rich, rich enough to dine with kings. _

_The markets were bursting with colours and scents, with life. But something about her had made him stop; though it was not just her beauty, for even the brothels were filled with the most stunning of women. No, it was something more that caught Adresyn's attention. A goodness that shone out of her face and seemed to weave through those beautiful auburn curls, it made the flowers woven into her hair even brighter; it made the amethyst at her throat pulse with light in the high summer sun. She smiled at him, almost shy and then those summer blue eyes looked away. And then he'd followed her with the cocksure grin of a young merchant. He was going to make her his wife._

…**.**

Anya stood perfectly straight by Adamyr's side, as if there were a board strapped to her back, as her mother. She wondered how the fae assembled before them viewed her. Did they see simply the pretty exterior, with her soft crimson breeches and vest embroidered with the most beautiful gold? Did they pay attention to the roses of the deepest red that Vasaanta had entwined throughout her haphazard braid, for only those of high positions were permitted such adornments as flowers. Or did they see more? Did they see the fire that burnt within her eyes and within her soul; the dedication to what she was doing. She would fight for it, despite her unease at the amount of fae.

She clasped her hand lightly before her, so demure. So coy. Those before her would never be able to tell how much she wished she held her rune-blade; like she'd held the practise blade against Adamyr's throat that morning. She almost grinned at the memory of his shocked face as, after weeks of sparring together, she finally beat him. Those amber gold eyes had widened as prettily as Siri's did when she was upset.

But she didn't grin, for those very same amber eyes were narrowed at the speakers who stood before them.

The vampyre siblings, Tyllaetha and Oxiron.

They could have been twins for how similar they looked; curtains of silken white hair, deathly pale skin and amethyst eyes. They even had the same pixie-like shaped faces.

Anya ignored the surge of dislike that surged through her at the thought of the vampyre and her treachery – trying to plant a seed of doubt within Anya. Though it had not bloomed, for Anya knew that Adamyr had not killed that beautiful woman, Vasaanta had told her so. Sunyata, her name had been, she was to have been Adamyr's queen.

"The humans are dangerous," the pretty vampyre was snarling. "Why would we align ourselves with them?"

She almost scoffed; for it was the fae who lured innocents into the forests devour their souls and hearts. The arguments, the same arguments, just turned in circles. As they had for the sennight past. And there was nothing she could do, not yet. For it was Adamyr's battle to fight.

He'd said as much to her the night past when they'd been reading in the library. History texts; trying to understand how his mother's protection had failed after two hundred years. She'd fallen asleep before the candle had burnt out, though it had been little more than a flame in a pool of wax. And like every night Adamyr had had the servants carry her to bed with feather-light touches that would not wake her.

She wasn't sure when he'd changed from being 'the Beast' in her mind, perhaps when he'd stopped acting as such.

Something changed in the air, a strange shift in Oxiron's eyes that alerted her to the change the moment before he swung around to snarl at his king. She was not so lost in her thoughts not to see the intent in his amethyst eyes as he unleashed his fury of Adamyr. On his _king. _"You are not fit to sit on that throne that your mother prepared for you. She was a warrior, who fought for the fae, for her kingdom. You are a snivelling coward who hides behinds his castle walls, uncaring as the humans kill us off. You are not fit to rule."

The furious snarl ripped through the silent chamber, the unblinking eyes of the fae unable to do anything but watch as the scene unfolding before them. As their king strode from his dais to lift the vampyre by his collar. Snarls tore through the air, as fangs were bared. "You are lucky that I don't rip your heart out, vampyre."

And then he through the white-haired fae as if he were little more than a child. His talons clicked upon the marble floor as he stalked from the room, his crimson cloak flowing behind him.

Anya narrowed her eyes at the two vampyres as the murmurs began. It was like a hive of bees, a droning noise that drowned everything out. She didn't look upon the faces of the true fae, the werewolves or the sirens. She didn't even glance at the myrmaids who had given themselves legs to hear their King speak in Court. Only to be accused, once again, by the vampyres.

The two vampyres who were watching the door through which Adamyr had exited, smug smiles upon their small faces.

She saw Larsyn's face, the strong blacksmith whose work she had admired for two years past. Whom she had badgered incessantly. Who had been recovering from a fatal silver-tipped knife wound. Whose loyal face was shocked.

She saw Vasaanta's stricken face; for the fae truly cared for the master who had given her back her life. Who had given her something to live for.

There wasn't a pause between the thought and the action as Anya drew herself taller, her face determined. "Court has closed for the day. I bid you leave."

She didn't raise her voice, but she knew they all heard her. She knew for there was an instant silence that fell upon the hall; and all those glittering, ethereal eyes turned to her. The lone human in the room.

And then Tyllaetha laughed, that mocking sound. "And why should we listen to you human? What does it matter to us who Adamyr takes into his bed?"

Anya did not blush; she narrowed her eyes at the vampyre who murmured Adamyr's name like a caress. The vampyre who had just blackened his name to his subjects. "Your _King_ has retired for the day; I suggest you do that same."

Vasaanta smirked softly. Tyllaetha snarled. "By what right do you order me about _human_? I may not be able to kill you, but you do not control me."

She briefly glimpsed Larsyn's kind smile; the same one he's given her the countless time he'd caught her admiring his blades.

_You are now queen of this castle._

They had been his words upon her arrival; he had spoken them and so the castle would recognise them. "I said get out."

…**.**

Removing his hands from his face he looked up with empty eyes, looking around the chambers that had been his so many years ago. The shredded jacket scattered in pieces on the floor. Very little was left of the beautiful article that had given him a semblance of humanity, the deep crimson silk shimmering like moonlight on water. A bloody handprint on the wall. Blood splattered across the floor. His blank face was reflected back at him in the thousands of fragments of mirror that glinted the sunlight, cracked like a dry river bed, the fissures running deeper and deeper.

A hideous, monstrous face.

There was a pounding on the door once more.

It would be Anya, pretty clueless little Lavanya who didn't understand the rules of the fae Court. Who didn't understand the history. Perhaps she didn't want to…perhaps she was still just biding her time so she could run her blade through the heart of the beast who had so long ago laid claim to her father's life. For trying to take a single glass rose. Before she'd foolishly offered herself in his stead.

No one would ever do that for him. His own subjects thought him unworthy.

Standing smoothly he shook himself with a growl. He would scare the annoying little human off; he would not care for her _feelings_.

With a snarl he tore the door off its hinges, growling down into the face of the human who had her fist raised to knock once more.

In silence he looked down at those cocoa eyes that were widened in shock. His heart jolted slightly, dancing in his chest as if it had a mind of its own before he dispelled the feeling. _Fool._ _You're a monster._

Then those perfect brushstroke brows went down, her eyes snapping with anger. "What happened back there?" In any other situation her voice would have startled him, a deadly growl, something almost fae. Wild. He saw something flicker in those dark orbs before she stabbed a finger into his chest. "You are an idiot."

With a growl he gripped her shoulders tightly, hard enough to bruise. Any thoughts of calm shattered in his mind like glass as she glared up at him. Silly, naïve little human. She didn't understand anything.

"What happened, Adamyr?" The use of his name should have surprised him, but he didn't even blink.

"Is that any way to speak to your Kingand _captor, _Lavanya?" his voice was as cold as a glacier, and her muscles tense beneath his fingertips. He snarled again, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth at her. Still, he did not look away from her eyes, even as fury surged white hot through his veins.

"Don't give me that shit, _your Highness_," she snapped, shoving against him. Turning, it was then that she noticed the state of his chambers. He felt more than heard her sharp intake of breath. And he knew in that instant that he did not want her to see. What he never wanted anyone to see. The lovely swinging chair that had hung from his roof had been pulled free, the marble fractured beneath it. The dresser which looked as if it had been torn in two, the pieces of one half shattered against the wall, the other half barely standing. The doors of the wardrobe had been ripped off their hinges and were nowhere in sight. "I won't ever understand anything if you do not tell me."

And all the anger left him in a flood.

Perhaps it would not be so bad if one person were to know the truth.

"My mother was a great Queen, she ruled for millennia by my father's side," his voice was surprisingly soft to his own ears, somehow almost…real. How it had been before the curse. But he didn't dwell on it; instead he focused on the creamy hand that rested on his forearm, guiding him towards the bed.

The words had begun to spill forth and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"When he was killed by a hunter she began a war," he inhaled sharply. "But not to kill the humans; she wanted to forge a peace that would last an eternity. She wanted us to live side by side with the humans. And it worked, a treaty was signed."

"But it was broken," Anya's voice was barely a whisper and he glanced across to see tear droplets coalescing across her thick lashes. But she did not let them fall. "We humans broke it; it was lucky your mother had the foresight to protect you all from us."

Adamyr shook his head, though her words were true. "My mother did not true-dream, Anya. She simply knew our natures better than we did. But, in my foolishness, I did not try to re-establish the peace. I let us become something to be feared as we were forced to retreat into the forests. The humans began to hate us, as they had before."

"What of here?" Her eyes were boring into him, overbright with unshed tears, yet still full of fire. "What happened here Adamyr, I must know."

"I was foolish. I was young. I was stupid, and arrogant and all the worst things that a fae can be." It was the truth; he knew it as he spoke it. Perhaps a truth he'd not truly faced. "And everyone suffered for it. Everything was taken from me, the love of my life. Though looking back I know it was not true love, perhaps lust, or perhaps I was in love with the idea of her. The perfect Queen." He inhaled deeply. "Through my own actions I have become what you see now." He spread out his hands, the silver talons glinting in the half-light. He would not tell her of the curse, he could not. Those powerful runes that had been cast upon him prevented it. But she could easily see what he was.

An animal.

A beast.

But Anya surprised him once again, a soft laugh escaping her. "Just because you look like a beast does not mean you have to act like one," she paused, locking gazes with him. "There seems to be only one thing you can do now."

"And what's that?"

She offered him a small smile, a peace offering. From the human woman who had vowed to kill him what seemed like an eternity ago.

"Just because you look like one, doesn't mean you have to act like a beast. There seems to be only one things that you can do."

"And what's that?"

She offers him a small smile, a peace offering. From the human woman who had vowed to kill him.

"Prove them all wrong."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Super short one, but the next chapter shall be amazing : ) Promise! xx**

**Chapter 12**

_**150 years ago**_

_Haviira stood before the forest. She did not tremble, nor did she weep at the thought of what she was to do. _

_The hand that gripped the silver-tipped dagger did not shake. The silver would poison her blood, as it did all fae; it would stop her body from healing itself. _

_She stared into the dark depths of the forests; she knew that eventually they would become a place that the humans feared, for they would be a sanctuary for the fae. But just as that was inevitable, it was inevitable that the enchantment would fade with time. She hoped her son would see it; that peace with the humans was necessary for their survival. For they humans would wipe them out otherwise. For thought the fae were powerful, the humans outnumbered them perhaps a thousand to one. _

_She hoped fervently that her son would grow into the man she knew he could be; that he would get past his selfish arrogance._

_Queen Haviira sighed, resting the dagger to where her heart beat within her chest._

_And pushed. _

…**.**

Laughter rolled through the small house and Lina could do nothing but smile as watched Elias and Mariia roll about before the hearth. She paused in the doorway, not wishing to intrude on their moment. Would she be welcome now that they were no longer staying under the same roof? For she and her father had moved into the rooms above Larsyn's forge after the blacksmith was claimed by the fae in the dead of night.

The smile slipped from her face, her hand falling from the doorframe. She would not knock, so instead she glanced through the small window once more as she turned away.

"Lina!" the door swung open to reveal a grinning Elias, his dark hair mussed, his darker eyes dancing. "Come inside, you'll catch your death outside in the snow."

And with that she was ushered into the small couch, a mug of hot tea pressed into her gloved hands. He sat beside her; a familiar warmth and a familiar tentative smile.

The laughter was easy, it made the darkness outside and within so much easier to bear. It made Anya's absence more…manageable. Unlike Siri, she refused to believe that little Anya was dead. For if she was already dead, Lina wouldn't be dreaming of different deaths.

For if she had already died, she couldn't die again.

"One day I'm going to meet a handsome prince, and he will fall madly in love with me," Mariia said, clasping her hands to her chest and sighing dramatically. "And we'll live happily ever after in his castle."

As Lina laughed softly, Elias ruffled his sisters hair. "You're only eight, Mariia. You have a while until you find your prince."

Mariia turned her wide brown eyes on Lina, looking like a lost hound. "What about you Lina? Don't you want a prince to carry you off to his castle?"

Images of the mysterious Beast's castle and Anya's death darted through her mind. And she smiled softly. "No, I do not need any prince. I would be happy to earn the love of a simple man."

She was still smiling when she looked up into Elias's eyes. They bore into her own, a strange frown marring his face, a strange emotion burning in those dark orbs. They were the almost-cocoa of Anya's eyes but darker, deeper.

"That's what Anya always said." His voice softened slightly, a smile tracing his lips. And a stab of jealousy seared through her.

And so she glanced at the window, seeing the sun was dipping low in the sky, though the snow had stopped falling. "I must be off, I need to help father light the fires in the forge."

Elias smiled. "I'll walk you home. Mariia! Lock the door behind me!"

The walk across the village was quiet, the villagers did not speak to one another as they passed, hurrying to get inside. Shutters were closed across windows; doors were barricaded for the night. And Lina watched her feet as they sunk in the inch of snow; she watched the hem of her skirt slowly darken from the wet snow.

And though they weren't speaking it was too soon before they'd stopped at the door to Larsyn's forge.

"Sleep well Elias, you and Mariia be safe."

She not even turned the handle before his hand closed around her wrist, swinging her around to face him. And then his lips were on hers. A gentle caress, a sweet touch. But the warmth blossomed through her as her hands rested on his chest. She should have been shocked, but perhaps she was only shocked that she didn't want to pull away.

She felt him smiling against her.

And then she was kissing him back. Just as softly, whispering words to each other between touches. Sweet nothings that meant everything to her. There was no darkness. No fear. There was just the warm, kind, gentle man before her.

Then he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. "Be safe, Nalini."

Another kiss and then he was gone. But the darkness did not close around her mind, she did not think of the dreams that awaited her that night.

And she was still smiling when the hand clamped over her mouth and her world turned black.

…**.**

Anya regarded him with curious eyes. He seemed more at ease, with himself and those around him since he'd opened up to her. Though there was no word of Tyllaetha and Oxiron, the Court was progressing well. For he planned to send a delegate, herself included, to the city to speak with the King that Siri so admired. To rewrite the treaty that had been forgotten a century past; there were no humans left alive to remember that fae could be good, that thy had been allies albeit for only a short time.

"You should open your Court to humans."

Adamyr's eyes widened, molten gold burning into her for a moment before he frowned, his scarred lips turning down. "What?"

_How very articulate. _"Exactly what I said, idiot. Open your halls to humans, as your mother did towards the end of her reign. People need to see that the fae aren't something to be feared – that not all of them are Cursed. They need to understand that the fae merely needed to be united, they needed a ruler. And now they have one."

"Yes, that the humans will think that's a bad thing. For an army of united fae are harder to kill than a rabble of rogue fae," he had a segment of orange skewered on one of his talons, waving it around as he spoke.

Anya growled, turning her face from him. A small act of defiance. The first rays of light streamed through the tall windows, rendering the torches useless, despite the lightly falling snow outside. The air was warm in his solar, but not uncomfortable as they broke their fast together as had become the norm. Platters were piled high with sweet delicacies, pastries dusted with sugar and twisted elegantly, brightly coloured fruits that exploded with flavour in their mouths. Anya's favourite things.

"Not all humans think like that."

Adamyr scoffed, a strange sound between something almost human and a growl. "This coming from a fae-hunter who came here to kill me?"

"I never hunted fae for fun," she answered softly, looking down at the pomegranate on her place. The succulent pieces winked up at her, tempting. "I don't think I ever saw a true fae, not really."

"I find _that _hard to believe," she heard him murmur. But ignored it. For surely he didn't mean it how she thought he did; referring to how fae were attracted to beautiful things.

"I hunted only the Cursed who roamed the woods near our farmhouse," she continued, though at the time she hadn't known that the fae-cursed creatures of the night truly were Cursed, creature that had once been humans. "The ones you should be controlling. They shouldn't be given free rein to steal women and children in the dead of night."

"And how do you suggest we open Court? A grand ball?"

She smiled, but it wasn't friendly. She almost laughed as the colour drained from his face. "Yes, exactly. A ball."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_**16 years ago**_

_Lina was only four, but that didn't mean she didn't notice things. She just couldn't articulate what she knew. She knew that her mama was sad, as if she were missing someone._

_But there was no one to miss._

_Not yet._

_Her pretty blue eyes were infinite as she looked down at her adoring daughter, like the ocean her bedroom window looked down upon. "My sweet Nalini," her mother would croon to her as they played in the solar. "Did you know your name means lovely? And that is what you will always be, no matter what."_

_She didn't want to ask about the dreams she had. The dreams where her mama died; but she never saw the hand that held the knife. She didn't know who to tell her mama to watch out for. She didn't know who would want to hurt the beautiful woman who enchanted everyone she met. _

_And then the auburn-haired woman scooped Anya up, her little sister that everyone adored. Her sweet demeanour won everyone over as easily as Siri's smiles._

_But mama loved all her daughters. Equally. And Lina knew that, even at four years old._

_Perhaps that was why she was so sad._

_Because she knew that everything was going to change._

…**.**

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Adresyn frowned, looking up from the table that sat before the billows that hadn't been used in the weeks since Larsyn's abduction.

They were banging on his door.

Voices.

So many voices.

With a heavy heart he opened the door to see the villagers spread out before him, their eyes frightened. The fae-hunter's eyes were strange. Those stormy pits looked too bright, though not as bright as Siri's.

"Lina has been taken," Siri's voice was cold. She blamed him. He didn't blame her for it.

Adresyn was shaking. _No…it couldn't be…She'd spent the night with Elias…_But Elias was there, his face stricken, paler than was normal.

First Anya…and then Lina…would the fae stop at nothing until they took everything precious to him? Was it the Beasts payback for trying to take that one rose? He didn't even know where to find the Beasts castle, for Anya had taken the map.

The villagers were looking at him expectantly. But he had nothing to say. Words failed him as they never had before. He, the eloquent merchant who'd thought he'd escaped the Beast and found a way to secure his daughters' futures.

And more everything had been taken from him.

"We must appeal to the king to help us!" It was Elias who cried it out and Adresyn found himself nodding.

"Yes, he needs to send his knights!"

"The King cannot aid us," Nuvian's voice was like a blade, cutting through the air. "For its takes a week to travel to the City, and he would not be able to grant us the help we need straight away. No, we must take care of this ourselves. For any number of our women could be dead by weeks end."

Lina dead…Anya dead…

Adresyn stifled a sob. "What should we do?"

"We must storm the castle and kill this beast, this horrible fae-king that will surely eat Lavanya's heart if he hasn't already."

The villagers were murmuring in agreement, but it seemed that only Adresyn heard Elias's distressed voice.

"But what of Lina?"

…**.**

Larsyn watched as Anya sparred with his King; a regular occurrence he was told. And her companion, the one with the brilliant blue eyes, had said that one out of three matches Anya won. He smiled as she twirled away from Adamyr, her braid whipping about her, her blade dancing in the morning light.

She was so different from the fiery girl from the village. She wasn't an outsider, despite being the only human.

She was more…herself.

Free.

He watched as the snow twirled in flurries around their feet and he wondered if the strange little human girl had begun to thaw the beasts frozen heart to reveal the man beneath. For his King's golden eyes flashed in a way that he'd not seen before, and he'd known Adamyr since his birth. Though he'd not been in the castle since the Queen's death, choosing instead to live with the humans he so admired, he would never forget that flash.

It was how Queen Haviira's eyes had flashed in battle. An admiration for a worthy opponent.

It was how her eyes had flashed when she had looked at her husband.

…**.**

Lina's head was spinning; the world was spinning. Her wrists were manacled to a tree, the clearing before her dark. Though not night-dark, perhaps it was a little before dusk.

And Lina's head pounded, there was something crusted to her face. Perhaps blood?

Something deep within the forest howled.

Had someone kidnapped her and chained her for fae food? As some kind of sacrifice?

Lina almost sobbed before shaking her head. Her mother would not have cried. No, Kythaela would not be so foolish. She would have found a way to get herself out.

At the thought Lina's mind cleared a little.

Until she heard the sound of footsteps in the silent night.

She saw the fae as soon as it entered the clearing. Though it had no wings, she knew what it was from those glittering amethyst eyes and starlight hair; it moved with a grace unknown to humans, a lethal, predatory grace. She was clothed in ethereal silks of silver that draped from her slender shoulders, that starlight hair done in intricate plaits that coiled around her head like a serpent in slumber.

Lina's was beating frantically, and perhaps the fae-cursed creature could hear it, for its full lips opened in a horrible parody of a smile. Revealing the elongated canine teeth that she knew would pierce her thought.

Lina's mind spun; for though she had never dreamed her own death she could easily imagine it. The terrible-beautiful creature before her would sink those fangs into her body, draining her of the red blood that the fae did not have. Then she would be discarded, an empty husk. Forgotten in a fae-cursed forest where no one would find her.

She did not delude herself into thinking that anyone would come after her. Elias had to protect Mariia, and the villagers were too afraid of the forests. Her father had withdrawn far into himself. Perhaps Anya would have searched for her.

But Anya was gone; she had no way of knowing her sister needed help.

And so Lina lifted her chin slightly, her emerald eyes defiant as her world sharpened a little more.

Then the fae was laughing. "You look so much like her, but so different. I thought you weak, an easy target. But maybe you have some of her fire. Maybe you'll make it fun for me before I eat your heart."

Lina narrowed her eyes. She would not let her fear show. "Who are you talking about?"

"Precious little Lavanya, who is standing in my way," the fae glowered, her eyes like violet fire in the almost-dark. Perhaps she had to wait until night before she attacked? Lina hoped so. "You see, I'm sure if I present her with your severed head she will weaken. She will hate fae then; she won't want to share the king's bed."

Lina's mind was awhirl. The fae knew Anya? Anya was sympathising with the fae? She was sharing their king's _bed_? Even at the thought Lina's mind faltered. Was the beast not the king?

"What is she standing in your way of?" It was useless to stall, Lina knew that. Because there wasn't anything she was stalling _for_. Perhaps just delaying slightly her inevitable death. But it was the wrong thing to say, for the fae's eyes burned into her, a snarl tearing from her throat.

"What should be mine, the beast Adamyr should not have the crown!" She lunged at Lina, but she never connected.

For barrelling through the night a figure had tackled the fae to the ground in a way Lina was far too familiar with. For she'd seen Elias knock Anya over in such a way many time before.

Lina's heat soared, even as the amethyst eyes flashed with rage. Even as Elias drew a long slender dagger with runes dancing along its silver-tipped blade.

The fae snarled as they grappled across the ground.

Lina did not cry out, she wouldn't distract the man who fought for both their lives. But her heart was in her throat as the dagger flashed; but no blood was spilt, not silver-fae or crimson-human. There were no agonised cries to tell her who had the upper hand.

And then the two were one their feet, Elias's dagger levelled at the fae's throat. Silver blood ran down the side of her face and her beautiful silks were torn. And Lina idly wondered how many people saw that ferocious snarl before the fae-cursed creature took their lives.

"Begone, fae-creature," Elias hissed. "Or I will slit your throat."

The fae's amethyst eyes narrowed dangerously; that inhuman violet fire that glowed in the dark. It seemed as if she were about to say something, a death threat perhaps, or a curse. But she turned and fled beneath the bowers of the dark and twisted trees.

And then there was silence, and Lina was keenly aware of every breath that Elias took; his perfect stillness as he watched the place that the creature had disappeared.

It seemed like an eternity before he turned to her, his dark eyes shimmering with that _something._

"Let's get these off you," he said softly; picking open the locks with the tip of his dagger.

And then she was falling, trembling into his arms.

Her bravery was spent.

"Shh, it's ok, I've got you," he whispered gently in her ears, rubbing her arms.

She looked up into his dark eyes, barely able to see him. "You came for me."

He brushed his lips against her forehead. "I won't ever let anyone hurt you."

And with those simple words she wasn't afraid. She wasn't afraid of the dark that was swiftly falling. She didn't have to be Anya's kind of brave, wielding swords and braving the forest. She didn't have to be Siri's kind of brave, with her bold words and sly schemes. She only needed to be herself.

With a shudder she kissed him, her fingers tangling in the softness of his shirt. She didn't feel the cold as his arms settled around her, pulling her closer.

His soft words, whispered in her ears were all it took for her to give herself to him. He loved her; and there wasn't anything more precious to anyone.

Neither of them saw the storm-grey eyes that watched from the shadows.

…**.**

Anya stared at the reflection that looked back at her. It looked so much like her, and yet, so not. It looked more like the woman she'd been in her dreams.

Almost fae.

Vasaanta stood behind her, hovering a foot from the floor, grinning ethereally. Her soft blue silks billowed about her in the slight wind her winds created; like a hummingbird, always moving. Those gossamer sapphire wings shimmering in the same light that seemed to make Anya's own face glow.

She touched the roses that adorned her hair the deep red of human blood that matched her silk dress perfectly.

It was the kind of gown that Siri and Lina would have sighed over, with perfect billowing sleeves and a girdle of the most pure wrought-gold that drew in tight to her small waist. But she felt naked, for the back of it was non-existent, dipping low to the base of her spine.

She wrung her hands together fretfully, ignoring the flash of gold and rubies that adorned her fingers.

A slender hand touched her bare shoulder. "You outshine the moonlight."

Vasaanta's smile was kind; she had not hate for the little human whose kind had killed her family.

Indeed she was more understanding that any human that Anya had met, aside from perhaps Elias.

And so Anya smiled, turning away from the reflection.

The ball beckoned her.

And with Vasaanta and Adamyr at her sides, she would not let the hundreds of fae daunt her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The hall was shimmering with a multitude of torches, hung from strands of silver that were strung across the pillars. Fae flitted smoothly around the small round tables that had been set up near the walls of the hall. The tinkling sound of the waterfalls underlapped everything, giving the hall a peaceful atmosphere. The musicians played a light tune, the flutes and string instruments wound a delightful melody that floated about the room.

The air was heavy with magik; he could feel it pressing gently upon him, sending a thrill through his entire body. It was almost as if the air itself was alive. The castle was responding to the presence of its kings subjects. It was responding to the presence of its _King. _

Adamyr knew he was staring, he could not help it; but it wasn't at the beautiful view he stared.

It was at Anya, as she danced with Vasaanta. Fire and water they were; Anya in crimson and Vasaanta in sapphire.

She was beautiful in fae silks; perhaps even more so than in those crimson breeches she wore when they sparred, her messy braid coming undone. Under the torches of the hall she looked untouchable; in a familiar way that did not remind him of Anya. She wore her hair loose, in gentle waves down her back, a wreath of red roses adorning her brow.

And so he approached her, smiling almost gently as the fae parted for him.

He caught her as she stumbled in a twirl – one she had perfected during their spars. But her fall was graceful, folding artfully into his arms. She was laughing, as she always seemed to be, her cheeks flushed, her cocoa eyes sparkling up at him.

"Your Majesty," she said, a smirk finding its way to her face. "Would you care to dance?"

Adamyr blinked. Then grinned. "If you think you can keep up."

And then she was in his arms once more.

Crimson skirts swirled around her; the perfect foil for his gold and burnt orange. Perhaps they looked like a live flame to those who watched? For the fae were moving out of their way as they twirled, Anya laughing as if she didn't care that the weight of their world rested on her slender shoulders.

Adamyr grinned. "You know, perhaps I should just hand you over to the incubus over there; he's eyeing you off as if he intends you to be his next meal."

Anya snorted as she twirled away, pressing a hand to her heart dramatically. "He would never; I'd prick him with my dagger if he dared get too close."

As the song ended she curtsied, every inch the proper Court lady, and ambled off to find Larsyn.

And Adamyr found himself leaning beside Vasaanta, watching her. He couldn't help but glare at the fae that approached her.

"You'll look after he, won't you?"

Vasaanta glanced sidelong at him; a strange look in her eyes. It was not fae-cunning; no it was something more akin to bewilderment. "She can more than handle herself, Adamyr. Have you not noticed that no one has tried to bespell or enchant her?"

And then he realised that even the unscrupulous incubus had not approached her. "Did she stab someone to make them so wary of her?"

Vasaanta laughed, as they watched her converse with Larsyn with ease. Her smile was uninhibited, cocoa eyes glowing. "She knows how runes work, your Majesty. Did you forget that you called her a queen upon her arrival? For she certainly didn't."

Adamyr's eyes widened in realisation of what his subject was saying – that Anya had used the runes to enforce her will upon even the vampyres. Was that why they watched her with a wary respect? But it did not stop a honey-haired werewolf approaching her to dance, a rakish grin upon his face. Nor did it stop her from saying yes and joining the revelries once more.

…**.**

"Will you dance with me, your Majesty?" Mykaela smiled up at the fae-king with a coy smile upon her face. She knew her sirens song would not work on him, for he was no weak-minded human. Indeed, there were those who whispered that the useless fae-king was a beast.

But she saw no beast when she looked up at him through thick lashes.

She saw a fae who radiated power; true power. Not one just brandishing the name of a king. He was a king. She saw his sense in making peace with the humans, for the land-fae had to share. Perhaps she could tempt him to join her in her kingdom, far beneath the waves.

And though her sirens song would not work, she had far more beauty than any in the room. With thick dark curls that curled temptingly over her shoulders in lustrous waves; a creamy complexion that would put alabaster to shame. And her deep ocean blue eyes, framed with sensuous lashes.

It was no wonder that humans ran their ships to ground upon sighting her.

And it was no wonder that the fae king said yes to the dance, leading her out amongst his subjects.

But even as they danced, the elegant twirls that no human could hope to match, his eyes strayed to the fire-clothed human. Perhaps he was like her little sister, forever obsessed with humans and their things.

Obsessed with the flames, which burnt so brightly but shortly.

Surely he knew that he could never take a human as a queen. He needed a fae bride.

…**.**

The man who stood behind her was as beautiful as any fae; with sandy hair and silver eyes. But that wasn't what caught her attention. No, it was the brilliant emerald sash that he wore around his waist, embroidered with pretty lace and golden embroidery. Perhaps it was a lover's token.

But when she had asked him about it he had laughed, saying that their King was not always as she saw him. He had been young and reckless and as arrogant as any of his mother's young knights. No, it wasn't a lover's gift he wore; it was a token of a deceit long ago.

"You were betrayed?" her eyes had widened, looking up into his charming smiling face. His tea-green wings fluttered almost nervously.

"No, sweet lady," he touched her face gently. "It was I who did the betraying. For to kiss another man's wife is a grievous thing indeed. Never again will I do such a thing; no matter how tempting the lady be."

And then he dropped his hand and he was gone amid the mass of elegantly-clothed, swirling bodies.

Anya rolled her eyes and took a delicate sip of the fae-wine, letting it rest on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed. The liquor burnt a path down her throat and settled in her stomach. She let out a light giggle before deciding it was palatable and took another sip. She felt the effects almost immediately, the strange rush that came with it and the light-headed feeling that made the room sway before her eyes.

"You know you really shouldn't drink."

She could feel Adamyr by the goosebumps that erupted over her skin when he neared, and when he lightly touched her arm she had to suppress her shudder as lightning shot down her spine. She turned and offered the handsome hildra a smirk. She fluttered her eyelashes demurely, looking the picture of maidenly innocence; something she'd seen Siri employ on many men at Court. "Why ever not? Did you come to save me from your knight?"

"Anya, you know as well as I that ambrosia does nothing good for humans." He rolled his eyes at her antics and tried to pry the goblet out of her slender fingers. "And Gawyn is a cur."

She giggled again, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. "Tonight is a night of celebration, _Your Majesty_. Come, let us have fun." She downed the rest of the drink and placed the goblet on the table. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd of dancing couples.

She lost herself in the myriad of people, twirling lithely about Adamyr's body once with a smile on her face. A smoky haze covered the room, dulling her senses as she took another goblet of wine. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was telling her to stay alert, to stop, but she pushed it to the side, letting all inhibitions go as she danced with her friend. The earth trembled slightly under her feet as she swayed, lost in the merry tune of the fiddle and the primal beating of the drums. She swayed her hips to the rhythm, leaning into Adamyr's body as he held her steady. Her body seemed to fit itself perfectly against his, almost as if she were made for him. And in that moment she forgot about the mysterious prince, about the human-fae war, smiling contently to herself. The smoke that covered the room wisped about as they danced, the smoky tendrils curling around them like a mantle. She lost herself in the goblet of wine that was offered to her.

It was almost midnight when he pulled her away, leading her to one of the tables. She smiled up at him dreamily as her head spun, giggling once more as her world tilted to the side with a sudden rush.

She looked up into his face and all she could see were those bright amber eyes, a beautiful almost-gold. The scars faded into nothing, in fact, she realised that if she looked beyond them he could have been handsome. And he was looking at her with something akin to concern.

He takes her out into the gardens and she is instantly drawn to the winter roses. He plucked one and placed it in her hair and she stares up at him, as if trying to decide something; his eyes were so familiar. But then the thought was gone and she was falling forward into his arms, her world off-balance. She wasn't surprised at his strength, but she ran her fingers over his golden-brown arms none the less, gently caressing the ridged scars that he did not bother to hide.

She stumbled back slightly, glancing up at his face that had been a scant inch from hers – she could feel his warmth on every inch of her skin. She couldn't see the beautiful gardens behind him, nothing beyond the bronze wings behind him, nothing beyond the Fae King before her. But then she was falling once more.

But she never hit the ground; instead those arms caught her once more, sweeping her upwards until she was nestled against his silk-clothed chest. "You're going to bed."

His voice rumbled through her and she laughed; a little longer than normal. She gasped for breath.

She moves away when she notices how close they were – she could feel his warmth on every inch of her skin. But then she falls once more and he swept her up into his arms. "You're going to bed."

She laughed, a little longer than normal. Then couldn't remember why she was laughing. She dimly notes that he was taking her through the servant's passages – which were abandoned for the night due to the festivities.

And she was grateful for it meant that none of his subjects would see her in such an appalling state.

"Thank you," he said softly, and it was if it were a struggle for him to say the words. "Vasaanta told me what you did."

"Oh?" Anya opens her eyes and sees his face in the dark. He looks like a small, lost animal. Though he was none of those things. "What did I do?"

"You sent Tyllaetha from the castle. You saved my life," he said. "She would have killed me; she still wants to."

Anya snorted, terribly unladylike, she knew that. But she really couldn't care less. "Don't think it means I like you. It just means I'm not letting anyone else kill you."

She knew he was raising his eyebrow; she didn't even need to open her eyes. Because her world was still spinning. Dizzily, out of her control.

But she opened her eyes anyway to looks at him and gaped. His face…It was a strange thing, she thought, to have him looking down on her like that. His wings stretched out behind him, beautiful and golden and bronze. Even his horns seemed iridescent in the half-light that the torch offered. But it was his eyes that were the brightest.

And then he was laughing at her. A full-bodied laugh that was far more human than anything she'd ever heard. Even more human than Nuvian's chuckles.

And so she smiled.

…**.**

Vasaanta came upon him just as he slipped out of Anya's chambers, closing the door lightly as to not disturb her sleep.

She raised her brows, a very Anya-like smirk on her face.

"She was drunk, I sent her to bed lest she make a fool of herself." He was being gruff, he knew. But the look in the fae's eyes was far too…_knowing_.

But as he turned away and down the hall back towards the festivities, there was a smile upon his face that felt entirely foreign.

For he'd not smiled like that even before he was cursed.

…**.**

She was in the room again; though her world was still spinning, everything a bit blurry at the edges. She giggled; perhaps she was drunk in her dream. Fae-liquor was perhaps the most heavenly things she'd ever tasted. Ambrosia, Adamyr had called it.

"I don't think I've ever heard you giggle before," the man's voice rumbled through her. "It's…different."

_Maybe I sound like Siri…_

She was so much shorter than him, she realised when he stood up. Perhaps more than a foot taller, the iridescent golden wings making him seem even taller. He dwarfed her.

But not in any way that was unpleasant, for he was no taller than Adamyr.

And then an oh so soft hand was caressing her cheek, the scent of roses filling her sense. Was it him or was it her? She ran her hand across one of forearms. So smooth, without any scars.

Perfection.

His breath was fanning across her face; and she knew she should have been backing away. But she felt as if she knew him; the mysterious prisoner. His eyes did not look at her as a stranger's would.

He was looking down at her so intently, as if he could discover the mysteries of the universe in her eyes.

She pulled her hand back. But her words were silenced as his lips pressed to hers.

The kiss burned into her mind, and her heart – that one kiss, raw with need, desire and so much more told her everything that words could not. And that one kiss was enough to undo her. She melted into his embrace, her hands entwining around the back of his neck. As her soft lips ghosted over his, over his cheeks and eyes, he knew. He must have known how right it felt. For he rumbled, low and dangerous.

And strikingly familiar.

With a gasp Anya pulled back, her hand pressed to the pulsing ruby at her throat, even at he pressed open kisses along her neck. Along her exposed collar bone. He was so warm.

And her world was still spinning.

Two pairs of golden eyes flashed through her mind; so different.

And so she thrust herself backwards, her back pressing against the cool expanse of the mirror. "Stay away from me." Her voice was not her own, breathy, high.

"You seemed to want me a moment ago," he was frowning. "Why don't you want me, don't you think I'm beautiful?"

She pressed a hand to her head. Her whole body was tingling, as if she were on fire. She'd never felt more alive. Right feeling, wrong person. "Beauty isn't everything."

She wrenched herself away from the dream and awoke with a beating heart.

And everything seemed even more blurred than it ever had been in her life.

**Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease review : ) **


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_**17 years ago**_

_Even at nine years old Nuvian had known what they were doing, from the moans and sighs that reached him even as he clamped his pillow over his head. But his mother was gone for the day; there was no one for him to run to._

_It'd been a few hours later, when he was sitting in their small kitchen, that was little more than a bench and table, staring out at the bleak sky with low hanging clouds, that the woman had emerged. Her long silk dress trailed on the dusty floor, the diamonds on her rings shining despite the lack of sunshine. Almost unearthly beautiful – a stunning face surrounded by a tumble of chestnut hair. But it was her eyes that he would never forget, beautiful, bright, and yet they were cold and distant._

_She'd smirked at him as she left, revealing canine teeth that were slightly too sharp._

_They'd found his mother's body the next day. It'd taken most of that day to try to cut down the noose hanging from the clock tower so she could be buried. _

_He knew that the Devil had ensnared his father, and he'd vowed as he watched them bury his mother that he would stop that. He would purge the land of their influence, the disgusting fae-cursed creatures that did not deserve to walk to earth, spreading their pestilence._

_He would kill them all._

…**.**

Anya could feel herself falling out of its customary braid, but she didn't care too much. Adamyr had known something was wrong, for he'd almost skewered her three times. Too easily, in ways that she should have been able to avoid. But her mind had been on another pair of golden eyes, set in a stunningly handsome face. She had tried to forget the man that she couldn't find.

Perhaps he was just a figment of her imagination.

With a sigh she snapped the book closed, for the words were merely swimming before her eyes.

Looking over the pretty gardens, covered in a soft layer of snow, she sighed.

She missed her little farmhouse and their somewhat peaceful existence. She even missed Siri's snide comments. She missed traipsing about the forests with Elias. She wondered what he was doing and if little Mariia had gotten any better with her letters.

It's strange, she thought, to miss a place that wasn't really home. But then…where was her home? Was it the house in the city, the one that over looked the ocean? Where they had lived for the first ten and seven years of her life? Was it the little farmhouse where she was needed by the villagers to keep warm? Where she wasn't really accepted?

Or was it perhaps Adamyr's castle?

She looked up at the vast marble structure, cream and white and gold against a stormy sky.

Damned to an eternal winter. No human belonged there. And yet…

She shook her head. She wondered how her father was doing. She felt guilty for leaving, leaving him with nothing but a hastily scribbled note.

She hadn't even told him how much she loved him.

…**.**

He was getting good at reading her mood, he decided, when she walked into his study, a book clutched under one arm.

She was troubled; he could tell by the slight crease of those brush-stroke brows, the way she gnawed on her lower lip.

"What's the matter?"

She seemed surprised by his question before she lowered herself into the chair opposite him. Her cocoa eyes were dark, overbright. Had she been crying? No, human eyes went red and puffy; they didn't sparkle like a fae's. But then she sniffled slightly. "I miss…my family."

And Adamyr froze; he hadn't given a thought to the merchant-farmer and his beautiful daughters. Save for the one who sat before him. He'd just assumed that they would be fine with the riches he'd given to the father. He hadn't thought of their…feelings.

"I ask only to visit them," her words were hasty, as if she feared his interruption. "If only for a day; I would return to you."

Adamyr held his hand, that strange smile on his face. But she didn't see it, for she was looking at her velvet-clad lap, where her hands were folded. "Of course you can visit them Anya."

She glanced up. Startled. Her cocoa eyes wide. And then she smiled.

From his drawer he procured two items, a mirror and a ring. Without ado he gave them to her. "The mirror will allow you to see whatever you want; be it the progress of Court, or to check the forests."

Anya took the enchanted object with a frown. He couldn't imagine what she saw when she looked into it, for the viewer never saw their own reflection; it could have been the past, the present, or the future that she glimpsed. Perhaps she was admiring the beautifully gilded frame, with the roses etched into the gold, the rose-coloured enamel that matched those lips that parted slightly. Then she glanced up at him. "Where did you come by such a thing?"

Adamyr frowned; it was a story he loathed. "It was a woman's long ago. This is but a part of the original mirror. For it had been cracked almost beyond recognition; the largest of the other fragments no larger than your thumbnail." He almost laughed as Anya glanced down at her hand. "She was an artist, a tapestry weaver. She used the mirror to show her the world as none other saw it. It was the only glimpse of the world beyond her tower than she was allowed."

"What happened to her?" Anya's voice was soft, perhaps the regret shone in his eyes.

"Her name was Elyane, perhaps one day I will tell you her story." He then passed to her the rune-ring, also gold, inlaid with a single moonstone. "This ring is spelled to return the wearer to the castle when it is twisted."

He watched as she placed it upon her middle finger, where it shrunk to fit. Then she smiled up at him. "Thank you, Adamyr."

He waved her out, a sense of foreboding rising within him. "You have a week to return, Anya."

She stopped in the doorway, hesitating. Her eyes were still troubled, despite her smile.

"Do you _want_ to return?"

She laughed then, the sound he was so familiar with. "I still have to kill you remember."

And as the door closed Adamyr chuckled to himself.

That answer was all he needed.

…**.**

It was market day, at least, it was meant to be. But the village was desolate; windows boarded up, letting not even the light in. Goods were traded at doorsteps, voices raised no louder than a whisper. Elias moved away from the window as he saw Nuvian strolling down the street, his crossbow resting on his shoulder. A rabble of villagers trailed behind him, bearing pitchfork and crude swords that the fae-hunter had cast runes over.

Protecting the women from fae.

Though they hadn't helped Lina when she'd been taken.

He looked across to her sleeping form, were she lay curled next to Mariia. Both slept soundly, in the blissful embrace of slumber. A small smile made its way to his face.

Then as he watched, Lina stirred, her eyes fluttering open to reveal those emerald orbs. She extricated herself from Mariia, careful not to disturb her, and settled the blanket back over her small frame.

She joined him at the window, peering out through the cracks in the boards to see the grey sky of early dawn. Then she leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Warmth blossomed through him. "Night is almost passed; it should be safe to go outside soon."

He rubbed her arms, softly pressing his lips to her temple. "How did you sleep?"

She turned around to face him; her face ethereal in the cracks of light that shone upon her. Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling softly. He knew he would have broken long before she would. "I saw _it_ again. The beast that father told us about. But something was different…Anya didn't die…I did."

He could see the terror in her eyes and he wished he could make it go away. He wished he could harness the power of runes and bespell her dreams away. "I won't let them eat your heart."

He wondered if she was thinking of Siri and their father, staying at Nuvian's house; for the villagers had decided Larsyn's house fae-cursed. The forge had been burnt to the ground. They'd all watched the inferno with a sense of trepidation.

Then he noticed it. Raised voices. Shouts. Exclamations.

"What's happening?" Lina's voice trembled. Had another person been taken?

Villagers with torches ran past the window, too fast to glimpse their faces.

"Are the fae attacking?"

They both glanced to where Mariia lay sleeping.

But as Lina spoke, the rays of morning light reached over the tops of the rooves. Elias shook his head. "No, look…the sun. It must be something else."

"Let's go see." With determination blazing in her emerald eyes, it was Lina who pushed opened the door and stepped into the cold air.

…**.**

The floor of Nuvian's bedchambers were cold to Siri's bare feet as she stood and stretched. The noises beyond his sturdy walls had awakened her from a blissful sleep. She'd been the princess of an exotic Court, and Nuvian a fair prince who sought to win her hand.

She let a smile grace her face, though no one could see it, as she rolled her unclothed shoulders, gathering the blanket around her whilst she searched for her clothes.

How she loathed that her father had bade her to leave the chests of fine clothes at the fae-cursed farmhouse. But the jewels could have been bespelled. She scoffed aloud.

Nuvian would never let anything happen to her.

Even outside of her dreams he was every bit the gallant prince; he was charming and beautiful. And everything she had ever wanted.

She spared a cursory glance around the room before she left; her father was nowhere in sight. Strange, for he barely left the shelter of Nuvian's home.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up as she stepped outside; not because of the cold, but because it cast her shadow in a tempting shadow. It left only her full lips visible.

The cold did not bother her, for Nuvian had stitched runes into the hem with a delicate gold thread; runes to ward off the bitter chill that had the other villagers curling their noses up and rubbing their hands together.

No, Siri was not like them. Her winter cloak was a thing of beauty, of decoration. The pale winter-blue made her eyes appear an even deeper sapphire, it made her hair an even more lustrous auburn. There was no doubt of her being the most beautiful woman in the village; for poor Lina could not compare with her sallow eyes and hunched shoulders.

She was foolish to let the dreams taunt her.

Siri followed the sound of the raised voices.

"It can't be…!"

The lane was empty; but the snow showed the footprints of perhaps everyone in the village. And then the lane turned into the road that led to the city, and that was where they all congregated. In the early morning light they looked little more than savages, clothed in furs and rough-woven gowns.

"What on earth…?"

She moved through the crowd, delicately sidestepping elbows and mud puddles.

And then she was at the front, where she belonged, looking at what they all stared at. There were no raised voices, only a hushed silence, as the creature got closer.

It was a snow white mare, the colour of careless sea foam, with a bridle of leather and gold. Flowers were woven through its mane and tail, reds and oranges and golds. Dripping with citrine and rubies. But it was not the horse that Siri stared at, she couldn't care less what finery adorned it – for she had seen its like before. Her father had returned from the Beast with such a mare.

But it was not her father that was astride the pretty animal in a velvet cloak the colour of blood. For though they had the same cocoa eyes, their father did not have an auburn braid flung carelessly over one shoulder.

No, it was Anya atop the animal.

Very much alive.

She sat perfectly straight, as regal as any princess. And though her hair was the same, there was something different about her face; she seemed to be almost glowing despite the chill in the air. Her eyes were bright, alive.

"Anya!" it was her father's cry, so filled with joy that startled everyone from the silence that had fallen.

And then he was rushing forward and Anya was sliding from her saddle, a heavenly smile on her face.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Just a short one O.o**

**Chapter 16**

_**90 years ago**_

_A decade he'd been a Beast, a horrible creature of such hideousness that he could not bear to even glimpse his reflection in the candelabras. He had no doubt that no one would ever love him; he would not break the curse. He cared little for the servants who scuttled out of his way in fear; the servants who whispered about him in shadowed corners. _

_He'd felt a glimmer of hope when _she_ had entered Court. _

_She was more beautiful than Sunyata had been, though he'd never thought such a thing would be possible. Where Sunyata had been soft sunlight and shimmering water, Alsiria was moonlight and darkness. If Sunyata's wings had been the beautiful colours of sunrise: gold, orange and the softest rose, Alsiria's could be likened to the dusk. Silver, blue and violet, shimmering behind her._

_She was the fae princess of a Court that no longer existed; she had appeared seeking refuge from the humans who had burned the humans around their mountainous castle._

_She'd looked so fearless, clothed in dark leathers, with a wickedly sharp blade sheathed at her hip. She was ethereal, as untouchable as the starlight._

_And so he had wooed her from the shadows; she was courteous, sickenly so. He was gallant, he was kind; he was everything that he had not been when he was a prince. And so the newly crowned King of the fae won her; and the fair princess agreed to wed him._

_And he hoped fervently that it would be enough to break the curse; for her to agree to wed him must mean she loved him. _

_Yet it was not until the day of the marriage that she saw his face, his beastly form. _

_He would never forget her screams of horror; the look on that stunning face as he'd emerged from the shadows._

_She had seemed so different, and yet she was just liked Sunyata. For she'd thrown herself from the balcony rather than be wed to him. Her body had been so broken that his best healers could not revive her. _

_And the witch's words echoed through his mind. _Until someone saw the beauty within.

_He realised, watching her body turn to silver dust under the full moon, that the princely figure that had wooed the maiden was not himself. Not anywhere close._

…**.**

Anya laughed, the sounded bubbling out of her as Elias wrapped his arms around her. And then she was lifted in the air, spinning around.

The shocked faces of the villagers were a blur in her mind, even as her friend set her on the ground once more. No, it was Lina's stricken face that she saw.

Her emerald eyes were a little wider than usual, barely concealing a pain within them. But it was she that her sister was looking at, no it was Elias's smiling face that she focused on. And despite her sister's fragility Anya pounced on her, hugging her slender form tightly.

Albeit hesitantly, Lina hugged her back.

And then Anya drew back slightly, a smile still on her face as she understood. And she couldn't have been happier. "Treat him well, Lina," she said softly, kissing her sister's cheek softly. "And he will be yours for all eternity."

Lina blinked, her mouth falling open in an 'o'. But then her face melted into an ecstatic smile, her eyes sparkling. She said nothing, but hugged Anya of her own volitation. And to Anya it was sweeter than ambrosia.

"We've been so worried about you," Lina said softly as they drew back from each other.

Anya touched her cheek, so gently and turned to Siri.

The sapphire-eyed beauty made no attempt to hide her disdain at Anya's attire; though she was dressed well herself. "You look well, Lavanya." Anya smiled, though it felt a little tight.

What had changed whilst she had been gone?

She tried to ignored the cold way in which Siri spoke to her; her beloved sister looked as if she could squash her. Then she realised, it was no different from how Siri had always spoken to her. She had never noticed it before, but her time in Adamyr's castle had changed her. Or perhaps she only recognised it for it was the same way that Tyllaetha spoke to her.

And so she ignored it; as she had ignored the vampyre.

But she could read the faces as those around her better; for they were not as adept at hiding their emotions as fae were.

And on most faces she saw bafflement. Astonishment. Almost wonder.

She wondered how she appeared to them, riding up on the fae mare, dressed in clothing that they probably could not afford. A jolt of guilt ran through her as she realised she could have asked Adamyr for gold to give to the villagers.

She didn't even have any gifts for her sisters or fathers. And she says as much to her father, who held her tightly once more; one arm around her and one around Lina. "It is a gift enough to have you back, my sweet Anya. I feared he'd eaten your heart."

…**.**

Nuvian stared at Anya as if he were fae himself; drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her eyes were alight with an inner fire, her cheeks aglow with life. She sat atop the bar, a cup of mead not far from her hand, her velvet-clad legs swinging as she laughed.

Gone from the tavern was the melancholy feel that had settled over it in months past. Anya was a light in the dark.

They questioned her relentlessly about the Beast who had held her captive, was he vicious? Was he truly terrifying?

And then Anya was laughing once more. "He was no more terrifying than you or I; he treated me like a queen."

Siri was glaring at her; of course she was. But Nuvian did not find that strange; no, he found Anya's careless way strange. Did she not know that the creature could have eaten her heart at any moment and left her body to rot?

Or perhaps…

He watched her carefully as she laughed with Lina and Elias. She must had been bespelled by the Beast. Was she his new plaything? A paramour to keep him entertained? For she did not look as if she'd been tortured. But those expensive clothes she wore could have hidden any number of bruises on her soft skin, any number of gauges.

Nuvian almost snarled at the idea of the Beast's claws on Anya. _His_ Anya.

"Look at the blade she carries," Siri hissed in his ears, drawing Nuvian's attention to the beautiful rune-blade. Surely not a gift of the so-called fae king? "Why would he give her something that she could turn against him?"

Why indeed?

And so, watching his precious Anya, he was glad that he had not told the villagers of Larsyn's treachery, of his fae-blood. He was glad that he'd said the blacksmith had been taken by the fae.

He would ask Anya about it; and he would judge her reaction.

For no true human would ever think kindly of a fae.

…**.**

Vasaanta flittered uselessly down the brightly-lit hallways, unsure of what to do with herself. For her charge was gone for the week. And already the castle seemed dim without the lively human. Such a precious little human with her bright ears and auburn hair; with her big heart and caring soul.

The fae flittered near a window, her feet barely brushing the ground. She did not like walking; no, she would always use her wings. To make up for the family that would never fly again after the human had ripped their wings off and left them to die in the snow.

Vasaanta shivered, looking out at the gardens. She was glad that Adamyr had given Anya back her blade; for she would need it. There were many, both fae and human, who would stop at nothing to prevent an alliance between the two races.

Adamyr knew that; he knew the chances of one of the rogue fae attacking her were high. But he trusted her to handle herself, for he knew her strengths, she'd trained with him herself.

He'd changed, she saw with a smile, as he bent down to help a servant that had tripped over. He'd even helped her pick up the washing that had fallen across the hall.

She just hoped that it was not all for naught.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_**2 years ago**_

_Siri stared at the noble, unable to comprehend what was happening. Had all of Court learnt of their situation already?_

_She could have stabbed the man before her with one of Anya's precious blades. "Excuse me?"_

_He was chuckling nervously, his handsome face flushed. He would not look at her as he rubbed his neck. "I know you were expecting an engagement, Sirisha…but with things as they are…"_

_He let the sentence run into the air._

_Did he think that she could have helped what had happened? The fae-cursed storm that swallowed all their ships had nothing to do with their father, it was ill-luck. She moved into the sunshine, looking out the window and into the harbour._

_So many ships, such flimsy things at the mercy of the sea. _

_She glimpse her reflection in the window; her alabaster face surrounded by waves of auburn hair. A face more beautiful than any other women in the Court. Why did he not want to wed her? Simply because they'd lost their fortune and had to sell even their beloved house?_

"_Father will get his wealth back," Siri said, turning to the handsome young noble. "And all will be well."_

_The man grimaced. "It's not just that Siri. Mother does not approve of you; she thinks you should be sweeter tempered, like Lavanya. Softer."_

_And so Siri snarled, turning on the weak-willed man who bowed to his mother's every wish. Such a horrendous woman! "Get out!"_

_He couldn't be told fast enough as he backtracked, not eve bowing. But then he paused in the door. "I hope Anya is well, give her my regards Siri. She deserves greater wealth than what has been forced upon you." _

_Siri threw her shoe at the door as soon as it clicked shut._

_But that soft click seemed so much louder than it did; reverberating within her soul. So many doors closing on her._

_He was not the last suitor to visit them; she and Lina received them all. Nodding graciously to their apologies, their reasons for not wanting to wed. Listening to their concerns for Anya. _

…**.**

Siri never took her eyes of Anya as she settled into Nuvian's home; waltzing about like she belonged there. She would not allow Anya to be alone with the fae-hunter; she would not let the wench seduce her _Nuvian_.

She watched with disgust as their father fussed over her, as if she were a princess, always asking if she was comfortable, if she had been treated well.

As much as she said she was fine, Siri could tell there was something off about her little sister, parading about in velvet, silk and leather. She knew that Nuvian had noticed as well; but he thought she had been bespelled by the fae-king. But Siri knew it was something else entirely. She was _happy._

The little wretch had gotten everything that Siri had deserved; everything that Siri had ever wanted. She had gotten the riches, that castle and even a king. Beast or not. Siri eyed the expert weave of the vest she wore – four different colours silks weaved together, so fine that it looked as if she were wearing a flame. Embroidered with a finest gold thread that sparkled in the light, with chips of crystal and rubies sewn into the hems. She doubted that headstrong little Anya noticed the quality of such a thing. It should have been _hers_.

And so Siri pulled Lina to the side as Anya washed the dishes, laughing gaily with their father over some stupid thing. "She's going to take him from you, you know," she hissed, as they watched their father stroke Anya's hair. She felt Lina stiffen; oh yes, she knew of her little romance with the hunter-boy. She was not blind. "Just like before."

Like before, when she'd stolen the affection of those men in the city; men who should have wed herself or Lina. Men who shouldn't have paid attention to the youngest sister, the one who dressed like a boy.

Almost lost in her thoughts Siri hadn't expected the pitying glance that Lina gave her. Lina, stupid, dull Nalini, was _pitying_ her. And then the emerald-eyed wretch moved away from her and joined Anya and their father at the winking, smiling at their little sister. As if she'd never said horrible things about her.

Siri spun on her heel and left the room, running into Nuvian on the way out.

She grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him against the wall, her lips sliding over his desperately. She could feel his shock, but then he had pulled her tight against him. Growling deep within his throat. Anya would not get Nuvian. Siri would do anything to stop it. "You have to kill the Beast. No matter what it takes," she was breathing heavily, her dress tight across her chest.

"Don't worry, I will," there was something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Something that reached out to Siri and she pulled him down once more.

Anya had turned everyone against her. The little bitch would pay and the first thing was to destroy her newfound life; her newfound happiness. The Beast would die.

…**.**

It seemed that Anya's presence was a temporary balm to the dreams that plagued her. For the past two nights Lina had dreamed of nothing but emerald-eyed and dark-haired children. She hoped fervently that they were true-dreams.

With a smile she glanced up at Elias as they sat at his small dining table, their shoulders brushing pleasantly.

His home seemed more alive than it had in weeks; for Anya's laughter seemed to dispel any darkness. A bright, carefree sound.

Lina could feel Siri's calculating eyes watching them all from where she'd draped herself over the couch before the crackling hearth. She could almost feel Siri's glare of hatred burning holes in her simple gown. A resentment that she had not sided with her oldest sister.

Lina shook her head, turning her attention to Anya and Mariia.

"Was your gown beautiful?" Mariia's dark eyes were wistful as Anya wove the tale about the ball the fae-king had held.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever worn," Anya's smile was almost whimsical. "A train of red silk that trailed behind me like a waterfall. Adamyr had a fresh garland of roses woven for me."

"Not a crown?" Mariia frowned.

Lina wondered at Anya's almost-shy smile as she shook her head. Another strand of hair fell loose from her braid. "To wear roses in one's hair is the highest honour for the fae."

Siri scoffed.

And Lina was glad that Nuvian wasn't there – that he'd trekked into the forests to make sure there were no fae nearby. Perhaps he'd gone to their old farmhouse.

"How long are you staying?" their father's voice held a note of trepidation.

Perhaps he knew the answer before he asked, for Anya's smile turned sad. Regretful, as she twisted the pretty gold ring on her finger. "A week only; I promised that I would return."

A slight scuffle alerted Lina to Siri's movement; the woman stood straight suddenly. There was a gleam in her eyes as she tugged on her winter boots and the storm-blue cloak that the fae-hunter had given her. "I'll go find Nuvian and bring him in for dinner."

…**.**

Adamyr raised a brow at Tyllaetha's appearance as she entered his solar. Diaphanous amethyst material draped across her body, caressing slender curves; her hair a waterfall of silver silk behind her.

Her full rose lips were curled into a lascivious smile, a single white rose worn behind one of her upswept ears.

"You've been stressed of late, my king," she lent on the edge of his desk, that shimmering material drawing tight across her hip. Her voice was soft, and Adamyr had to refrain at rolling his eyes at her.

Did she think him so desperate for female company that he would seek his solace in _her_?

Did she think he would simply forget her challenge to his throne?

He narrowed his eyes at the paper-thin cut across her throat…perhaps a few weeks old. Had she tried to attack Anya?

For only a rune-blade would scar a fae's skin.

"What are you doing, Tyllaetha?" He sat back, watching as she blinked; startled at his abrupt tone.

She leaned forward slightly, drawing attention to the shadow between her breasts. "What do you _think_ I'm doing Adamyr?"

Her breath was on his face, her lips scant inches from his own scarred ones. Perhaps she was trying the direct approach that Anya so favoured?

It was the last thing he thought before the vampyre's hand had curled behind the back of his neck and pulled her towards him.

Rose pink lips met scarred full ones, white hands moving up to tangle in the fae-kings dark, coarse locks that looked so similar to a lion's mane. The vampyre's lips were enticing, like the most succulent of peaches that Anya loved so much. And then he saw the humans face, her grin, the way her eyes sparkled when she bested him during a spar. The way her hair had fallen loose from her braid when she'd pinned him to the courtyard ground in the snow. The way her eyes glimmered with pride when he passed something through Court.

A soft breath blossomed across his face when he pulled back a hairs breadth, warmth suffusing through his body. But when he opened his eyes it was not warm cocoa eyes that looked up at him. No, it was too-bright amethyst eyes that were glittering with cunning and glee.

"Get out Tyllaetha," he hissed. His hands clenched, silver talons biting into his palms.

The vampyre scowled, pulling herself upright. "I could be your queen, Adamyr. I would be the most beautiful thing in your Court. You do not need an alliance with vermin."

Adamyr shook his head, turning away from her. Angry at her. Angry at himself. "Beauty is not everything."

That mocking laughter that he hated rang throughout his solar. "That stupid little human has softened you."

"I would rather be softened then be like you. Cruel, without a care for others. Now get out, next time it will be an _order_."

He could almost hear her flinch as she remembered Anya enforcing the runes of the castle onto her.

With a sigh he looked back at his notes. A draft to send to the King of the humans.

He wished Anya would return swiftly.

…**.**

Anya stared into the flames, watching as the fiery tendrils flickered, crackling merrily despite the cold that sought to quench them. She leant back against Lina's legs, a smile on her face.

She had to leave the next day in order to return to the castle.

It was something strange and bittersweet that she felt; she missed the castle and its beautiful gardens, she missed Vasaanta. She missed her sparing with Adamyr.

But when she left she would miss her sisters and her father. She would miss Elias and little Mariia, though she knew that Lina would take care of them.

Perhaps they would all be able to visit her; even Siri. She would love Court and the glittering jewels that Adamyr would surely gift her with.

"I hope Elias is ok," Lina's voice was soft, as to not wake Mariia, who lay sleeping beside her.

"It's not Elias that we should be worried for," there was something slightly off about Siri's voice. Was she worried? "It's the other men who have braved the forest to search for fae, including our father. They could be killed!"

Anya did not bother arguing, for they did not know that there were no fae left in the area. Most were residing in Adamyr's Court, as they should have been all along. But there could have been Cursed roaming the forests; hungry for the blood of humans.

She fervently hoped that no one tangled with one; she'd seen the hunger in Tyllaetha's eyes, she couldn't imagine it without control.

"Will you stay just one more day?" Siri's eyes were overbright with unshed tears and Anya's smile wavered. She knelt beside Siri, taking her sisters hands in her own.

Perhaps things could be mended between them if Siri did surely miss her. Adamyr would understand. "For you, I will stay. Just another day."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Almost finished T.T**

**Chapter 18**

_**Flashback (Adamyr POV):**_ _His kingdom was one of the last that had not been taken over by the humans; he lost his father at a young age and his mother was a fierce fae queen who died in the war against humans, leaving him to rule in the fragile peace she had established (protected within an enchanted forest)._

…**.**

Adamyr paced in his solar, watching as the sun set over the tops of the trees. A growl escaped him.

He should have known not to trust a human.

He should have known that she would break her word like the rest of her kind would.

No, he corrected himself. Anya was not like that, something must have held her up.

She was not like other humans, nor like any fae he had met.

He wouldn't think ill of her not intentionally. Not when she'd done so much. Had she never sacrificed herself in her father's place he wouldn't have reopened Court. Perhaps Tyllaetha would have taken over.

His golden eyes narrowed, for through the dark trees he glimpsed the light of a torch. A beacon in the dark.

He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. Nor could he help the elation that soared through his very being.

He almost ran through the corridors, ignoring the knowing smiles on the faces of his servants. For he knew that they, too, eagerly awaited Anya's return.

Through the intricate oak doors he barrelled, into the night and the snow. "Open the gates!" His order carried easily through the night as he smoothed down his dark locks. _Would she be glad to see him? Or would she feel as if she were returning to a cage?_

But something was wrong. There was no laughter, no teasing words.

There was the soft sound of a crossbow releasing and Adamyr snarled, his savage growlreverberating through the still air even as the bolt pierced through his wing.

He sees the light in the distance and his heart soars. He goes down to the castle grounds, ordering his servants to open the gates to let the lady back in.

…**.**

Anya stared at the flames. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her very being. It was too quiet and there was an uneasiness within her. The night was dark beyond the window.

Was Adamyr wondering where she was?

She frowned and looked down at the mirror that he had given her. The swirling mist did not reflect her face, indeed, it reflected nothing. Her eyes traced the beautiful roses on the frame. "Show me Adamyr."

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw within the inky depths of the mirror.

The scene swept across the gardens that she knew so well, covered with snow and littered with the bodies of the fae. Silver and red blood stained the pristine snow, it fed the winter roses that bloomed despite the violence that surrounded it. She could hear no voices, but she could easily see the humans who attacked the fae without mercy.

Nuvian and her father; a ragtag group of villagers wielding silver-tipped rune-blades. They wore emotionless masks as they slaughtered the defenceless fae.

And then she saw him; cornered by the statue with the glass rose. His golden-bronze wings were tattered, bleeding from dozens of wounds. His snarl was furious, his golden eyes ablaze in the night.

Without thinking Anya twisted the ring on her finger.

There was a roaring within her mind as the runes worked over her body; like thousands of ants crawling across her skin.

The world tilted before her, as if she'd drunk a dozen bottles of ambrosia.

Blinding white tore across her vision and then she was falling.

Falling through space.

Falling into snow.

But she wasn't fast enough, she was still staggering to her feet as she saw Nuvian take aim with his crossbow. She was still trying to make her voice work when the bolt flew true and buried itself in Adamyr's chest.

In his heart.

A scream pierced the night air and she didn't know if it was his or hers as he staggered back.

Silver blood trickled down his chest and he fell.

And then the world fell around her once more as she was running through the snow. Trying to reach him. The world blurred before her and she knew the tears were falling.

His golden eyes met hers as she fell to his side.

…**.**

Elias stared at the place that Anya had been not a moment before; she had been there one moment, and then she had been gone. She turned to Lina for confirmation, to know he hadn't hallucinated. But it was no comfort when he saw that her eyes were wide with shock, her mouth open.

"Where did she go?" Lina's voice shook; no doubt thinking what he was. _How had she gone?_

"To her beastly lover, no doubt," Siri's voice was snide, almost laughing. Elias hadn't even heard her enter. "To save the precious beast that they've gone to kill."

He could do nothing but watch as Lina swirled to face her sister, her slender form trembling with unconcealed rage. There was a blaze within her that he'd not seen in weeks, her eyes like emerald fire. "What have you _done_?"

Siri scoffed. "That beast will get everything he deserves when Nuvian's blade pierces its chest."

And then the twisted, sickening plot fell into place before Elias's eyes. There had been a hunting party, oh yes, but only one prey they had in mind. Anya's Adamyr, the King of the Fae. And he had not been invited because Nuvian had known that he would have told Anya. Had it been Siri's idea or the fae-hunter's?

"What of your sister? What of Anya?" His voice was harsh, but he couldn't have cared less.

Siri's eyes hardened like the sapphires they so perfectly mimicked. "That little bitch has done nothing to deserve the wealth she happened upon. She'd spread her legs for anyone."

He couldn't move, frozen in shock at the venom that dripped from Siri's tongue. But he could see Lina kick into action, securing her cloak around her shoulders, pulling on her boots. She was going outside; she was going to save Lina and her fae-king. Despite the fact she'd been kidnapped and almost killed by one of his subjects. He had never loved her more than he had in that moment. Then she turned to Siri once more, determination in her eyes. "I interpreted the dreams wrong, Sirisha. It was never the fae king who was going to rip out Anya's heart. It was _you_. You're the monster."

…**.**

Anya was all that he saw; everything beyond her was white. Quickly fading into black.

Gently, ever so gently, he brushed an errant lock of auburn hair away from her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her cocoa eyes brighter than any diamond he'd ever seen.

Her lips were trembling, her small frame shaking.

He didn't see the hunters who had attacked his Court, before he'd ordered them inside the castle. He didn't see the bodies of his precious servants. He knew he was dying, he could feel his life leaving him. And Anya's hand was so warm on his face.

There was no point in hiding anymore. No point in denying anything.

"I would have made you my Queen," he whispered softly, his fingertips brushing across those beautiful lips. Lips that he wished he had kissed so many times.

Her hand caught his, pressing it to her cheek as if it were the most precious thing in the world to her. "What of your fae queen?"

Her breathing was ragged, her voice nothing more than a whisper. And it tore at him.

He didn't wanted to leave the kind and fiery human. He had wanted to wake up each morning, he had wanted to spar with her every day. He wanted her to sit in the throne beside him, not just stand at his side when he addressed Court. He wanted to be able to voice her opinions to the fae, rather than whisper them to him behind the closed door of his solar.

He wanted so much that he could never have.

But at least she would know.

"She would never have been you. I would never want anyone but you, Lavanya."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Anya knew the moment that he slipped away from her. And it was as if the world crumpled before her, looking down into his lifeless golden eyes. With a trembling hand she closed his eyelids; he would not turn to silver dust. Not yet, she would be able to grieve over his body for a few nights yet.

And so she took his sheathed sword from his belt; for even when under attack he'd not drawn his blade on the humans.

She looked at the familiar shimmering length. It was not silver-tipped; but it did not need to be. For it was no fae that she was facing.

Rage was bubbling within her, a pleasant hum in her veins. Lending her fire. Lending her strength.

It was as if the weather felt the shift in the air, for the snow was no longer falling.

So it was with no difficulty that she turned to face Nuvian, raising the blade before her. His face was a mask of shock; for of course he knew that a fae's spells disappeared with their death.

He had been foolish to think she was under any spell. He was foolish to think that Adamyr would bespell her.

She didn't look at the villagers beyond Nuvian; she didn't look at her father. All she saw was the fae-hunters handsome profile and his starlight hair. Brows drawn down she raised the fae-blade, watching as the moonlight danced along the blade.

"What have you done?" Her voice surprised even herself; low and deadly. As if it belonged to another being.

Nuvian's crossbow fell from his hands, his mouth opened as he fumbled for his blade. "It was all for you, Anya. It was all for you! So you could be mine!"

…**.**

Nuvian stared in shock as Anya approached. There was something almost wide in her dark eyes. Bleached of colour in the moonlight she looked like some kind of avenging spirit, her cloak whipping around her in the slight wind.

There was a deadly intent in her eyes.

She had to understand that everything he'd done was so they could be together.

"It was always you, Anya," the words tumbled from his mouth as she approached. "The horrible, twisted Beast did not deserve to even keep you a prisoner in his castle. That filthy fae did not even deserve to look at you. You're everything that's beautiful in the world and you belong with me!"

Anya didn't pause, if anything his words seemed to enrage her. He saw as she shifted, her footing sure in the snow. "It's why I let the fae-cursed take the villagers, so that you still need me."

…**.**

Anya didn't stop but she felt the moment that the villagers realised that Nuvian had fooled them all. Fooled them into thinking he was _protecting _them, when all he had been doing was protecting his own interests.

If she was all that was beautiful in humans, he was everything that was ugly.

She could feel the eyes of the fae burning into her back – but they stayed in the castle as their king had no doubt ordered. For the runes stopped the humans from entering without permission.

She did not hear Nuvian's words as she knelt by Tyllaetha. The vampyre was twitching violently, her stomach pouring silver blood. But Anya still knelt by her, though she knew there was nothing she could do. The amethyst-eyed fae was fading fast. The vampyre's beautiful features twisted for a moment as she recognised the human, but a silver-coated hand reached out to touch her cheek. Much like Adamyr had done what seemed like a lifetime before.

"Tell your sister I'm sorry, I was wrong about you, I was wrong to try to hurt you," the vampyre whispered, bone-white strands of hair sticking to her face. "Save us all, Lavanya of the humans. Bring back our king and make peace."

And then she was gone.

Anya drew a shuddering breath, standing. The vampyre hadn't known that her king was dead; but she would honour her words. 

She scanned the bodies, fervently hoping that Vasaanta was not among the dead fae. For she was no fighter, she wouldn't have stood a chance.

But she did not see her friend and her eyes fell on Nuvian once more, drawn to the sparkling around his neck. A pretty scale necklace that she'd admired once, an age ago. But she recognised it for what it truly was. A necklace of siren scales.

And then she knew with startling clarity that it was him.

He was the hunter who had ripped the wings of Vasaanta's family. He was the one who had killed the vampyre children.

He had used her sister, twisted and manipulated her, made her believe him in love with her.

He was everything that was horrible in humans. And he believed it right out of a twisted sense of love for her.

…**.**

He could feel the eyes one them: both fae and human. He knew Anya was about to attack the moment before she did, and so he met the Beast's blade with his own.

There was no sound save for Anya's soft growl and the sound of metal on metal.

The snow was kicked up in violent flurries around them as they exchanged blows

He'd watched her sparring with Elias enough to know that she knew how to wield a blade. He knew her style as well as he knew his own; but something had changed. He was forced to parry as she attacked him, gritting him teeth against the unexpected jarring. She was swifter, darting inwards to deliver a series of blows that would have ended his life had he been any slower.

She had used to prefer defence, waiting for her opponent to attack.

But the Anya before him was wild.

Savage.

And still so beautiful.

"You've obviously been spelled, if not by the Beast then something else," he panted as she forced him backwards, almost stumbling in the snow. "I will forget everything if you just come back with me."

She was forcing him towards the woods, out of the pretty snow-covered gardens. Her vicious blows gave him no choice but to retreat.

"We can leave the forsaken village and move to the city; you'll have all the jewels you could ever want."

She snarled, a wild, _fae_ sound and swept his feet from beneath him.

"I will never go anywhere with _you_."

Talking was her first mistake, for he used her momentary distraction to grab her ankle, twisting it from under her. She fell with a thud, and beneath the twisted canopy of the forest, there was no one to witness the beautiful way that the snow drifted around her body.

The struggled did not last long, for he was stronger than her, forcing her hands above her head. He pinned her legs to the ground with one of his knees.

With a victorious grin Nuvian kissed those beautiful soft lips. So much like Siri's and yet so different. He was claiming her. He pulled back with a laugh the moment before her teeth snapped together audibly. _She was his. _He knew from the oaf Elias that she'd never been kisses before. "I've claimed your first kiss as my own. You've no choice but to wed me."

And then she was laughing. Brazenly, too boldly. "If we go by that rule, then perhaps I should be wed to the _Beast_ that you murdered."

Nuvian stared at her, his mind blank. "That deformed beast deserved to have a bolt through his heart the moment he was born."

"He's a better _man_ than you could ever hope to be."

Nuvian snarled and gripped her face with one hand. "You _will be mine_."

…**.**

Anya wanted to gauge out those stormy blue eyes that looked down at her. And then she realised his hand was on her face; only one still held her wrists.

"_Never_." She gripped the first thing she could think of – her necklace. The gold chain snapped so easily, like it wanted her to use it. The ruby struck him across the cheek, a vicious streak of crimson blood. The runes across the ruby flared brilliantly.

Nuvian jerked backwards, startled, pressing a hand to the cut on his cheek. Shocked that she had drawn his blood.

And then she was on her feet, crouched low, swinging the ruby slightly. "My heart belongs to another_, fae-hunter_." She spat the words at him, gratified to see his blank look. Gratified to utter the words that she'd not even allowed herself to think.

"You love _him_? That foul Beast?"

Anya felt as if her snarl was answer enough as she launched herself at him.

But she never made contact.

She was frozen, one arm outstretched, her feet positioned for momentum. Around her, the snowflakes had stopped falling, hanging in the air as if someone had stopped time.

"My, my. Isn't _this _interesting?" The voice entered the clearing a scant moment before its owner did. And even if Anya hadn't been frozen, she knew she would have stared at the regal woman whose eyes were the colour of the truest blue topaz. Her hair fell in soft waves the colour of ice, and gossamer silver wings fluttered behind her as she hovered above the ground.

And though she had never seen the fae before, Anya knew who she was.

The ancient weather-fae who had cursed Adamyr's castle into an eternal winter. She was unearthly beautiful, as all fae were – but there was something more in her eyes. A dangerous kind of wisdom that bespoke power.

A creamy hand reached out to touch the necklace that Anya held, unable to do anything to stop it.

"Very interesting." Then she turned those blue topaz eyes on the fae-hunter. "You have been a thorn in my side, Nuvian."

Nuvian was frozen too, Anya could see. But she could imagine he was seething within; that his precious rune-cloak had not protected him from the powerful fae's magik.

"You will be coming with me, the world does not need your kind." And with nothing more than a wave of the fae's hand, Nuvian was gone.

And then Anya could move, stumbling forward she would have fallen in the snow had the fae not caught her.

But her mind was in a daze.

"I could not let you kill him, child," the fae said softly, answering the question that Anya's mind had not yet formulated. "You would never forgive yourself."

"Where did you take him?" Why had she cursed Adamyr? Was she good or bad?

Or was she some kind of in-between?

The weather-fae smiled, seeming young all at once. "I sent him to my home, beneath the lake."

"Who are you?" Anya's mind was awhirl. She couldn't think. She could barely breath.

Nuvian was gone.

_Adamyr was gone_.

She suppressed the agonised cry that threatened to tear through her.

"My name is Nyneve, child," they were facing one another, Anya realised, and she was still clutching the ruby necklace. "And I have long been an advisor to the Fae Court."

Anya breathed in deeply. What was she going to do? Adamyr was gone, the fae were without a king. The last fae Court had fallen. To humans once more.

Everything they'd been working towards…gone.

If she had gone Adamyr would have been able to carry on. But she was just a human. She had no special powers. She did not even have an official title within the Fae Court. She was nothing.

She could feel the fae's eyes on her, and she looked up into those startling blue topaz eyes. "If you could have anything in the world, child, what would you ask for?"

Anya didn't hesitate, not as she had so long ago when her father had asked the same question and she'd answered a single rose. There was only one thing that she could ever want. "For Adamyr to live once more."

The fae regarded her for what seemed to be the longest time, like time ceased to mean anything. "What would you give for him?"

"My life."

Anya did not even see the fae draw the dagger. But then she was looking down at the golden dagger hilt, engraved with rose; watching as red, red blood blossomed across the front of her tunic. A darker red than the fabric. But she didn't think of the pain that seared through her body.

_I hope that Adamyr lives…_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_**100 years ago**_

_Nyneve had watched the young fae prince from afar from years, as was her duty. As she had promised her dear friend Queen Haviira. She would not let the fae fade into nothing but myth and legend; and the fae prince was their last hope at survival._

_But she could see clearly what he was becoming: arrogant, proud and careless._

_He cared nothing for the war that his mother had raged in the name of peace, he cared nothing for the lives sacrificed or what that sacrifice meant. He cared only for things of beauty and the frivolities of Court._

_Nyneve knew that the fae would die if he ascended to the throne how he was, and his chosen queen was little better than he was. Beautiful on the outside but uncaring within._

_And so she devised a plan, just as she had many times before. For many future kings and queens of the fae._

_She would give him a chance to redeem himself; if not he would become one of the Cursed that he so despised. _

_The fae's only salvation would be for him to change, to become a king worthy of his throne and crown. Worthy of the responsibility._

_Worthy of love. _

…**.**

Her eyelids fluttered open to see a beautiful face leaning over her. Golden eyes and golden hair that fell over his forehead in a way that had Anya's fingers itching to push it back. The man from her dreams; the mysterious prince. She was in her chambers, in the castle.

Sunlight was streaming through the window, and somewhere outside there were birds calling merrily to one another. The sweet scent of spring filled the air.

Then she remembered the weather-fae and the dagger. Had she died?

Was the prince dead too?

And then he was smiling; a dazzling smile that would put the sunlight to shame for brightness. It was as if pure happiness radiated from his face. "My Anya. My sweet, sweet Anya. Of course it would be you." And she recognised the voice, that growling baritone that was more beast than human.

"Adamyr?" Her voice was shaky, weak. But real. _What was going on?_

And then he was laughing; a full-bodied sound that she recognised from their sparring sessions. And then his arms were around her, those strong arms that had caught her when she was drunk on ambrosia. But there were no scars, only smooth and unblemished golden-brown skin. Everything about him was golden, even the iridescent wings that fanned behind him gracefully.

_The prince never had wings in my dreams…_

The world stilled as he peppered her small face with light kisses, his nose brushing against hers. Her hands clutched feebly in the soft silk of his shirt as she looked up into his brilliant gold-amber eyes.

Adamyr's eyes.

Her world righted itself and she knew it was him. She knew his warmth. She knew that look; that one of exasperated kindness and understanding. She knew the gentleness in which he held her. She knew his love.

His _love._

But she didn't understand. "Am I dead?"

Adamyr, _her_ Adamyr pulled back a hairs-breadth and smiled. So brilliantly. "No, my brave, beautiful Anya. You are very much alive."

"Perhaps some explaining is needed," the voice was familiar, tugging at her memory. _Nyneve. _The weather-fae who had taken Nuvian. The weather-fae who had cursed Adamyr's castle. The weather-fae who had killed her.

"I'm still not happy with you, witch," Adamyr growled, a familiar rumble from deep within his chest. And still encircled within Adamyr's arms, Anya turned to face the fae. "Explain away."

Blue topaz eyes were glittering with mirth; perhaps because even though he growled, the smile wasn't quite wiped off Adamyr's face. "It wasn't just the castle that was cursed, Lavanya. It was Adamyr as well, I cursed him into his previous form. The one that you are acquainted with."

So Adamyr had dream-walked in his original form? His _princely _form?

But Nyneve wasn't finished. "Your love broke the curse, Lavanya. Saying that you would offer even your life for him proved it, for to give one's life is the greatest form of protection. So even as Adamyr here lay dying, he was transformed back into his fae-form and his healers were able to fix him. You see, he wasn't quite dead when you gallantly tried to avenge him."

Anya frowned. "But…if I'd already broken the curse, why did you…stab me?"

Nyneve was laughing then, the sound of running water, of birdsong. The sound of everything beautiful in the spring. "My dear, Adamyr couldn't rule with a human. He needs a Fae Queen."

Anya's hands clenched in Adamyr's shirt and he drew her closer to him. Unconsciously, as if they fit together perfectly.

Perhaps Nyneve truly could read minds, for she laughed once more. "No one is going to separate the two of you. I doubt they could. Lavanya, child, you needed to die in order for your fae-blood to take over."

Anya's mouth popped open in shock. Fae-blood? Adamyr pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. _Just listen to her, _his eyes seemed to tell her. And when she nodded slightly he smile. Could he mind speak as well as dream-walk?

He sat down on the bed, with her small form curled into his lap as they both watched the ancient fae.

"Lavanya, your mother was one of the fae who stayed in the human lands after Queen Haviira's sacrifice, even after the humans turned against us," she paused for a moment, her eyes boring into Anya's own. Willing her to understand her words. To believe them. "She wasn't killed by fae, as your father believed. She was one; and she sacrificed herself to protect you and your sisters. She used blood magik in creating the necklaces that would hide your fae-scent from any other fae. It made you appear like any other human, smell like any other human. It stopped your magik; to varying degrees of success."

And all of a sudden, it made some kind of sense in Anya's mind. Lina's true-dreams…the reason that she could not use rune-magik. The reason that she and her sisters seemed so irresistible to everyone. But her mother…a fae?

But Nyneve hadn't finished.

"When you took your necklace off, I was alerted to your presence. I'd didn't know it was you, all I felt was a sudden surge of power that I'd never sensed before. And for most part I watch all powerful fae," she chuckled to herself, as if it were some kind of old joke. Adamyr shared her baffled look. "I'd thought you a rogue fae, intent on harming the Court, for I could feel your emotions. So imagine my surprise when I found the little human who was under the protection of the King, having the scent of a powerful fae. A little human who was half-fae."

"I'm half-fae?" Anya was holding her breath.

It was Adamyr who shook his head, stroking her hair back off her face. "You are a true fae now. Your death erased your human blood. It is only the fae left now."

His golden eyes seemed to glow for a moment. It was strange to see them in a different face. She glanced up and Nyneve was gone; her chambers bare save for the two of them.

"I'm still a little confused," Anya murmured weakly, glancing down.

She wasn't quite sure why she was shy. It was Adamyr. And he knew she loved him.

Perhaps that was it.

That she hadn't got a chance to tell him, not properly.

A gentle hand touched her chin, making her look up into those beautiful golden eyes once more. And then she noticed, almost with glee, that he had retained a single scar. Straight through one of his dark eyebrows. Exactly where it had been before. "Perhaps you would like to see how you look?"

"How I look?"

Anya blinked and let him lead her to the mirror, suddenly unsure.

With Adamyr by her side, just as beautiful as he had been when he walked into her dreams.

And he was smiling in a way that he'd never been in the dreams.

She realised then, that in a way the prince of had been trapped.

It just wasn't how she'd thought.

But then she looked at herself; the unearthly beautiful woman she was in her dreams. But it wasn't her face that caught her gaze.

No, it was the gossamer wings that fluttered slightly behind her.

Ethereal.

Just as Adamyr's were bronze and gold, her own were violet and red. Like a flame. Iridescent and fluttering.

"There's never been anyone more beautiful," Adamyr whispered softly, kissing the junction of her neck and shoulder like he had so many times in their shared dreams. "Inside or out."

…**.**

Lina stared at the castle before them, shining a brilliant cream marble in the sun. The sprawling gardens were beautiful, with hundreds upon hundreds of flowers in full bloom. Gone was the winter and snow that Anya and her father had spoken about.

Laughter drifted through the air, followed by the sweet sound of pipes.

"What is going on?" Elias murmured.

They had been expecting a massacre. Not a…haven.

There was a beautiful fae by the gates, hovering in the air on sapphire wings. Her hair was looped intricately in braids and pinned to her head, her body clothes in fluttering blue silks. Her smile was ethereal and Lina knew, instinctively, that there was nothing sinister in it. There was no cunning in those summer-blue eyes.

"Ah, you would be Nalini and Elias, yes?" her voice was like the music that drifted around them. Light and carefree.

The Lina heard laughter. Distinctly human laughter.

"We are," it was Elias who spoke, and she was glad that he, at least, was composed.

The fae woman smiled once more. "We have been expecting you, please, will you follow me?"

And then she was leading them through the gardens, where white roses bloomed everywhere. Fountains were bubbling happily, merrily and hummingbirds flitted around like the fae before them.

Laughter.

Then Lina saw her. She knew it was Anya by the way she was sitting, perfectly straight with her rune-dagger by her side, her auburn hair carelessly flung over one should in a braid.

"ANYA!" the cry burst forth from her lips and she was running and stumbling to her sister. So glad to see her alive. Foe she'd seen her die so many times in her dreams.

But then the woman turned and Lina stopped, eyes wide. Her face was wrong, sharper, more beautiful. Her eyes deeper, her skin smoother. And then she smiled, revealing those fae-sharp teeth.

Lina stumbled backwards into Elias, who gasped at the sight of his best friend.

"Lina!" It was her father's voice that brought her back and she was looking up into his wide brown eyes. The same colour as the Anya before her. And because for once in many moons, her father looked happy Lina listened to him. "Come, dearest, we have much to explain to you."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_**16 years ago**_

_Kythaela stroked her mare's neck gently. _

_She knew her time had come; but she didn't regret it. For it was time to pay the price of the blood magik she had put into those necklaces all those years ago. She would sacrifice herself, as the magik demanded. And then her beautiful children would be safe from all that was bad in the fae._

_Even though she had to leave them she would never regret it. For she had eight years with her dearest Adresyn; eight years of loving him and their children with all her heart._

_It was more than many ever got. _

_She had approached the fae woman may years before, when she'd true-dreamt that she would have three children to a mortal man. She had known the price when she had asked for the protective runes on the most pure of uncut stones; ruby, emerald and sapphire. She had agreed to give her life for the three children who had not yet been born; but whom she loved with all her heart. _

_They would need the protection to hide themselves from the fae; so no fae would be able to sense the magik that lay dormant within them. Dormant and unreachable in their half-human forms. _

_They needed protection from those who would seek to use them as no human could._

_It was why she had urged Adresyn to allow them fencing lessons._

_A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of her husband and his beautiful cocoa eyes. She remembered the soft kiss she had pressed to his lips when she'd departed that morning._

_She hoped that he would not hate her for leaving; but she had stayed far longer than she should have. Her children had been her life in that beautiful house atop the hill. _

_But she would do anything to protect her children and her husband. _

_Her life meant little in comparison. _

…**.**

Nuvian glared at the witch-fae, hoping beyond hope that he could glare holes in her icy, gossamer wings.

"You know you won't get anywhere by looking at me like that," he tried to ignore her words, but they stole through his mind like a fog. But he would not let them cloud his senses. He would escape and find a rune-blade. Then he would run it through the sapphire-eyed bitch before him.

…**.**

Anya couldn't help but smile, and she made no effort to stop it. The sun shone down upon them, freed from the clouds that had blocked its path for so long.

Adamyr's hands ran through her unruly curls, his breathing deep and even. She could feel the heat of his hands setting a deep burning flame beneath her skin; her soul reaching out to his. It was a fire that would keep them warm in the years ahead, for she knew that it would not be easy – what had happened before was mere child's play. For they would approach the King, in hopes of living in peace with the humans.

To become part of society like so long ago; living in peace. For not all fae were monsters, nor were they beasts. For there were humans that could be more vicious and ghastly than any fae could ever be.

She opened her eyes lazily, looking up into Adamyr's golden eyes.

"You know, I dreamt of you like this," he said softly and she didn't not need to look at his full lips to know that he was smiling. For his eyes were shining, aglow with happiness. With joy. With love. "I thought it was just wishful thinking; hoping that you could be my queen. Though why I dreamt of you in that horrid room, I guess I'll never know."

Anya froze, her mouth parting in an 'O'.

"What is it love?"

_It couldn't be…_Was it not he who had dream walked? Had it not been his soul crying out for her help?

"You dreamt of me? In the room with the mirror?"

"You know of the room?" Adamyr sat up, pulling her around to face him. Amber eyes met cocoa, and his golden wings fluttered almost nervously behind him. His hand touched hers, reverently. So warm. So strong. So kind…There was nothing beastly about him. "Anya, did you dream-walk into my dreams?"

"Dream-walk?"

Adamyr laughed, picking her up and spinning her around. He brought her close, before pausing. "You were fae even when you were human, only the most powerful of fae can dream-walk Anya." He kissed her, sweetly. Softly, as if he were afraid she'd break. Or disappear. "You will be the most perfect queen."

And then it was Anya that pulled him into a kiss, leaving the questions for later. For they had all eternity.


	22. Chapter 22

**Epilogue**

Anya held Lina's hands, softly, lightly.

As if her elder sister might break.

"I've decided to stay like this," her sister said softly, shyly. Over her slender shoulder, Anya could see Elias's eyes on her sister; and the soon-to-be Fae Queen did not need to hear the words that Lina next said to know her reasoning. "I'd like a mortal life Anya. To grow old. To have children…"

She saw Elias's blush clearly with her sharpened vision, watched that lovely red that she no longer had spread over his cheeks. And she couldn't help the grin that formed.

"The dreams won't stop, though," Adamyr said softly at her side. Gently. As if he were talking to a babe. "True dreams cannot be controlled even by true fae."

There was that shy smile again, Lina's emerald eyes soft. "I think…it's been better…with Elias to help me. At least I know I'm not crazy."

"You will be welcome here any time, Nalini and you too Elias," Adamyr said, holding Anya within the circle of his arms. "We're going to restore peace between humans and fae."

Anya hugged Lina close, grateful for the change. "Would you like to live here, Lina? Would you like to help us? You would be treated like a queen, anything you want, we can provide."

She stepped back and saw the look that she exchanged with Elias. "I want to go back to the village; it is Siri that wanted that life, Court and the jewels. I…just want to be happy."

"I wish you every bit of luck," Anya laughed. "Both of you."

"Anya!" It was Vasaanta, fluttering towards her with a critical eye. "What are you doing, you need to get dressed for Court!"

Anya raised a brow. "I shall be going just as I am."

Lina laughed, a soft musical sound that was too beautiful for a human. But just perfect for a half-fae woman who was going to marry Anya's best friend.

Anya leant back against her king's chest, a content smile on her face. "Will I ever manage to get you into one of our dresses again? Or shall you always be traipsing about in breeches and your braid?"

Anya laughed. "Would you really want anything else?"

She felt him shake her head and press a soft kiss to her neck. "No, I want you to stay just as you are. My brave, bold, fiery Anya."

She raised a brow rakishly. "You forgot beautiful."

He spun her around to face her and the world melted away around them. She didn't see her father as he helped Lina mount her horse, she didn't see Vasaanta's grin as she watched them. All she saw were Adamyr's golden eyes, smiling at her. His hand was gentle on her cheek. "You are beautiful yes; but it is the beauty within that I love."

She couldn't help the glittering tear that leaked from her eye, even as she drew him towards her in a kiss that she knew would sear itself into her heart and soul.

…**.**

Nuvian was startled into wakefulness by a loud crash and his vision cleared to see Siri standing there with rune-sword.

The blasted fae-witch was lying on the ground, her eyes wide in shock as silver blood spilled forth from the slice in her abdomen.

"Turns out those lessons weren't lost after all," Siri laughed, slicing through the bonds that bound him. Her hair was wild, a tangle of auburn curls, her cheeks flushed, her dress torn. She didn't look like the beautiful put-together Sirisha he knew. She looked like Anya.

She helped him upwards. "What are we going to do?"

The look she gave him was strange, like she couldn't understand what he was asking. "It's quite simple, really. We're going to crush the fae. Every single one of them, including their new queen."

"Queen?" Nuvian blinked.

"Lavanya will die."

And Nuvian smiled…yes he could like the new Sirisha very much.


End file.
